


I know the pieces fit

by MsPeppernose



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8021872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/pseuds/MsPeppernose
Summary: Pete, in his infinite wisdom, decides to earn some easy cash by convincing Patrick to fake being his boyfriend for a relationship study. But as everyone but Pete knows, there’s no such thing as easy money, and one night after discussing their fictional sex life, things get heated between them. But it’s just pretend, right?  Before Pete can comprehend what’s happening, the feelings and affection he’s faking with Patrick become a reality.





	I know the pieces fit

**Author's Note:**

> I am so happy that this is finally getting posted! It's been a long time coming and I've given up about 6754 times.  
> Title is lyrics from Tool / Schism.
> 
> Thank you to Immoral_Crow for being such a kind and patient beta, and to Jiksa and TearCatcher for being such wonderful cheerleaders. I am very glad that none of you let me give up :)
> 
> Please go check out the wonderful [compliment art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8030164) created by ShottaSammy.

“You should do it,” Pete says.

“I dunno,” Mikey says, sounding every bit as sceptical as Pete assumed he would. “I’ve never really done anything like this before.”

Pete looks at the flyer again as Mikey passes it back. It’s an advertisement for a research group looking for established monogamous couples to participate in a study. It’s decent money for what sounds like not much work, and Pete knows that Mikey and Frank could probably do with the extra cash.

“But it’s a thousand dollars. Each.”

“Yeah, but it’s probably a lot of questions about our relationship and I don’t know if Frank would be into doing it.”

“Into doing what?” Frank asks, coming back into the room with three Cokes.

Mikey makes a face and takes the flyer back from Pete, thrusting it in front of Frank’s face. Pete watches Frank read and he can almost see the gears moving in his head as he does, the same gears that seemed to move in Mikey’s.

“It’s a lot of money,” Frank repeats. “But is a relationship study people being nosy about our relationship? Are they gonna ask if we argue over grocery shopping and which position we like to fuck in? Because I don’t know if I’m down for that.”

“I have no idea what it entails,” Pete shrugs. “But it’s a thousand dollars each so I thought you’d at least want to know about it.”

“Yeah, I appreciate that bit,” Mikey says. “Where did you even find it?”

“The gym.”

Mikey quirks a curious eyebrow. “Are you sure they’re not trying to lure us down a dark alley and harvest our organs?”

“Well, it’s a nice gym, so it seems like a legitimate study.”

“Not a dirty, shady gym?”

Pete laughs. “Nah. And I asked the receptionist about it and he knows about it. So they probably won’t trick you into the research place and then chain you to a radiator and steal your kidneys.”

“Probably,” Mikey says with a wry smile. He turns to Frank. “We can think about it? Maybe look into it. We’d have to apply for it anyway. No harm in looking?”

Frank sips his Coke and tips his foot against Mikey’s. “Sure. And we could actually do with earning some extra money, I guess.”

Pete pouts. “I wish I had someone to do this with. I could do with the cash, too. A thousand dollars would pay for a nice vacation.”

“It doesn’t start for a month. Maybe you’ll find someone?” Mikey says.

“Nope!” Pete pouts again. “Says it’s for people who are in a relationship for at least six months, so even if I found someone now it wouldn’t work.”

“Too bad, Wentz. Maybe if you had more than one date when any of your recent conquests it might be easier,” Frank snickers.

It’s just Frank teasing Pete and Pete knows it, but it hits a little close to the bone. “Fuck you, Iero. None of my recent conquests have been worth dating more than once. None of them felt right. No point in trying to force myself to feel something, you know?”

“So why sleep with them, then?” Mikey asks, even if he knows damn well what the answer is.

“I got needs, okay? I can hear you guys at it all the time, so I know you understand what I mean,” Pete smirks. To their credit, neither Mikey nor Frank look even remotely embarrassed that they might have been overheard; Mikey shrugs, Frank winks at Pete.

“Fine,” Mikey concedes. “If you wanted to do the research thing just for the money then you could always pretend to be in a relationship with someone?”

“That’s an awesome idea and all,” Pete considers. “But I’m pretty sure that anyone I would pretend to be with would have to know me inside out, and there’s not that many people who actually know me that well. And you’re one of them, Mikey.”

“Who are the others?” Frank asks.

As if by magic, there’s a click in the front door as a key unlocks it.

“Hey, guys,” Patrick says. He’s distracted balancing his headphones, keys and a bag of groceries. It takes him a second to get himself organised and for him to notice that all three of them are staring at him. “What’s up?” No one answers, but Pete can feel a wonderful idea brewing.

“What?” Patrick asks again, glancing between them, looking confused. Pete just grins.

*

“My answer is still no, Pete.”

It’s been three days of Pete selling the idea to Patrick, pestering him, but Patrick still sticking with his thought that pretending to be in a relationship with Pete just to get extra cash is a silly idea even if the money would be really great. Patrick knows how tenacious Pete can be when he has an idea he likes, and as the days have passed, he’s tried more and more to convince Patrick how much fun it could be.

“C’mon.”

“What a wonderful argument. Why, that has changed my mind entirely,” Patrick says, his voice deadpan, sarcastic.

Pete’s not disheartened, though. “I think you’re making a mistake. Imagine what you could do with a free thousand bucks.”

“It’s not free.”

“It’s _practically_ free. We just have to show up once a week for six weeks and pretend. Then collect our cash and hit the beach for a week.”

“If I do this I’m not spending my money on a vacation.” And Patrick notices too late that it sounds like maybe he might be reconsidering his options, but then again he’s been thinking about how a thousand dollars might be very useful. It’s the first time that Patrick has mentioned an _If I do this_ , and now he can see Pete’s face change ever so slightly, like he’s treading carefully so that Patrick doesn’t change his mind.

“What would you spend it on?” Pete asks, his eyes big and wide like a puppy hoping for a treat.

“There’s this really gorgeous vintage guitar I saw a couple weeks back. I played it for a while in the store, really didn’t want to give it back--“ Patrick cuts himself off when he sees Pete grinning at him. “Oh, I see what you’re doing. It’s not going to work.”

“What’s not going to work?” Pete says, and his voice is neutral, but there’s a note of glee to it.

“Pete.”

“Yes, Patrick.”

“It’s for sexually active couples. And we’re, you know, _not_!”

“Patrick, almost every guy I have ever met have either embellished or downright lied about their sex life. We can just make it up? Who will know?”

Patrick sighs, defeated, but he wants to at least try to sound resolute. “What do we have to do _if_ we do it,” he asks.

“First we have to get picked. So we do a big-ass questionnaire about our relationship, and then we have to do an interview with the researchers.”

“So we might not even get picked?”

“Of _course_ we’ll get picked, Pattycakes. Who wouldn’t want a couple as adorable as us on their books?” Patrick grimaces - he’s not quite convinced, but Pete pulls him into a little headlock and smacks a kiss on his cheek. It’s not the best course of action to convince Patrick, and Patrick is sure that Pete knows that, but he can’t seem to help himself.

The thought of being a performing seal and sitting discussing mythical personal details with strangers is daunting, but Patrick’s always had an inability to say no to Pete.

*

The survey is pretty standard, nothing too invasive or probing. It reads like a “Mr & Mrs” sort of quiz to begin with. There’s a whole list of questions that they each need to complete, from how they met, to their favourite things to do together (“Pete, if you say anything inappropriate for that one, I swear to god!”), to their day to day lives together.

There’s quite a lot of it that they don’t even have to lie for; they live together already, they’ve known each other for years, they’re _best friends_ ; these bits are easy.

The bits that are harder are how they would, in theory, deal with actual romantic-relationship things if they were really a couple.

“So, if we run through the questions first to get a feel for them, and then fill it in? That’s better right?” Pete asks.

“We just filled it right in,” Mikey says.

“Yeah, but you and Frank are actually together,” Patrick says, and he already sounds a little tired of these questions even if all they’ve filled in is the boring bits like names and addresses and next of kin.

“It’s not so bad,” Frank says. “These questions are just general questions.”

They each have their laptops open because they need to complete one questionnaire each, and while Pete begins reading through the questions, Patrick looks hesitant.

“What’s up, Patrick?”

He looks at Pete and then at Mikey and Frank flaked out on the smaller sofa across the room, then at his laptop and then at Pete again.

“I know this is just pretend, but do you guys mind giving us some space for this?” he asks Mikey and Frank.

Frank laughs. “Fuck, yes I do! I want front row seats to this.”

Pete doesn’t really care if Mikey and Frank stick around or not, and he had actually thought of bouncing some ideas off them, but he can see the unease in Patrick’s shoulders, so he says, “C’mon. Just give us an hour or something. We have a lot of fake relationship details to make up and it’ll probably be easier if we don’t have you snickering and heckling us in the background, right?”

“Spoilsport,” Frank says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Pete says, and maybe it will be easier to fill this out if it’s just him and Patrick here. He watches Frank get and up, and Mikey follows him, saying something in Frank’s ear. They both giggle, and while Pete’s happy to steal a few relationship ideas from them if needs be, something tells him they might also be a lot to live up to considering how good they are together.

He turns to Patrick who gives him a tight lipped smile. “Okay,” Pete sighs. He can do this. 

“Favourite thing about each other?” Pete thinks for approximately one second and then says, “Patrick has an ass that won’t quit.”

“Pete!” Patrick tone is part warning and part disbelief, but Pete’s sure there’s just an ounce of amusement in there.

“I’m kidding. But as soon as they meet me they’ll know I’m inappropriate so I need to make this believable. And you’ve an awesome ass, Stump!”

“Pete!”

“Fine. My favourite thing about Patrick is his patience. He’s been putting up put up with me and my bullshit for a long-ass time now.”

“That’s a nice thing to say Pete,” Patrick says and he actually blushes. “I don’t put up with you, though. We’re buddies, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Pete says and he bumps his shoulder against Patrick’s. And he mostly knows that’s true but he also knows that Patrick has dealt with a lot of Pete’s shit over the years beyond what some friends would. “I’ll make it sound nicer. So, now you have to fill your bit in. You can make shit up, I don’t mind.”

Patrick doesn’t look at Pete, he just looks at the computer screen, though it only takes a few seconds for a little lopsided smile to appear on his face. “My favourite thing about Pete is how much he cares about people. His family, his friends, his romantic partners. He cares. He may not always show it, but he always, always has your back.”

Pete smiles shyly at Patrick, at how sincere he sounds. “You didn’t even sound like you’re lying.”

“I’m not, Pete. You know that.”

Pete doesn’t say anything, but he feels all warm inside. “Next question,” he says, hoping that they’re all as easy as this. “What are the three most important things in the relationship? Well, I’m gonna say communication, because that’s what people always say, and that’s usually what I’m bad at.”

“That’s good. I think listening to each other is important too. And maybe compromise?”

“And keeping it fresh and sexy in the bedroom,” Pete grins. When Patrick gives him a look, Pete says, “Oh c’mon. It’s important. And what’s the harm in putting it down?”

“Okay, fine. But only because I can compromise.”

“Touché!”

“Next question; if you had to change one thing about your partner what would it be? I’m gonna say that I wish you were more kinky and adventurous!”

“Shut your face, you can’t put that down!”

“Why not?” Pete asks, all innocence.

“You just can’t, okay?”

“Oh, come on, please?”

Much to Pete’s surprise, Patrick mutters, “How do you know I’m not kinky or adventurous already?”

“Whoa,” Pete laughs. “Okay, I won’t put that down then, you kinky little man,” he says and tries not to wonder exactly how kinky Patrick might be. It’s always the ones you don’t suspect! More seriously he says, “I don’t know what I’d change about you, Patrick. Can we skip and come back to that one at the end?” He can’t think of anything on the spot, and he’s not sure he will even with more time, because surely Patrick is almost perfect the way he is.

“Sure. Next question; does your partner’s career affect your relationship or the time you spend together?”

“I guess that’s one of those work/life balance things, right? Well your job is normal hours because all your teaching is daytime hours, but I’m a writer so I could be working any or all hours of the day. I guess my career might affect our relationship, and maybe all your grading could affect it a little too, but I’m sure we could work around it.”

“Agreed. Next question?”

“Do you and your partner have the same life objectives in terms of marriage and children? I think I’d like to get married, and I’ve always wanted to be a dad. How ‘bout you?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, his eyes wide and honest. “ I think we’re on the same page for that stuff. I’d want the same.”

They continue through the questionnaire in the same manner, noting down their respective answers. They agree on most of the answers which is a good thing considering they’re supposed to be _together_ and have a similar outlook on life anyway. There’s a whole page on favourites, and a section on their sex life together, which they agree to come back to when they’ve finished everything else.

“I think we’ve done pretty well so far,” Pete says. He’s put his laptop down now, and his posture is gone to hell, slumping completely on the couch.

“Yeah, we did, and it wasn’t so hard. We can, uh, do that other section tomorrow?”

“The sexy one?” Pete leers. “Yeah, that’s cool. We can keep it pretty general. It’s our imaginary, hypothetical sex life anyway, so we can be as imaginative as we like.” Patrick looks a little uncomfortable, and Pete knows how private Patrick is about this sort of stuff. He doesn’t want this part of the survey to be what makes Patrick change his mind. “I can just fill it in if you want? You know I’m shameless about this stuff.”

“But you won’t, like, be weird about it?”

“And say you get off on licking my armpits, or something?”

Patrick laughs so hard that Pete wonders for a split second if he’s hit the nail on the head with that one. “What the fuck, Pete? Yeah, you can fill it out, but give us a very normal sex life, please?”

“Depends on what you define as normal, but fine by me.”

Pete spends far longer than necessary the next day thinking about his and Patrick’s hypothetical sex life, and how that might go. The questions range from how often they fuck, to if they use protection to the how long they dated before they slept together.

Patrick checks over Pete’s answers to that section, as Pete knew he would, but there’s no disagreement or complaint from Patrick over it, just a deep, deep blush. He promised Patrick to keep it _normal_ \- whatever that is - so Pete’s vague with his details, keeping his answers short and inexplicit. He’s positive that there will be more personal, probing questions that he’ll have to make up answers to later if they get accepted to the study, but this is fine for now.

Even if it’s weird to think about a sexual relationship with Patrick, and even if he knows he’s going to have to do it regularly for a whole six weeks if they get accepted, he tells himself he can handle it, and right now he believes it.

*

“My name is Gabe,” the guy says. “This is Victoria - Vicky.”

“Nice to meet you,” Pete says, shaking their hands. Patrick does the same, and feels more than a little awkward. They’re about to discuss details of a completely fictional relationship with total strangers. It’s the weirdest appointment that either of them have ever had to keep.

When they’re settled in the interview room - a bright, plain looking room with a circular table and four chairs, nothing special at all - it takes Patrick quite some time to relax. He keeps glancing at Pete, and either Pete is more relaxed or he’s doing a better job at pretending.

“So,” Gabe starts. “We’ve run through the questionnaires you submitted to us, and you seem like interesting candidates. This is just to meet up in person, go through some of the information you’ve already given us details on the general overview of your relationship.”

“We want to get a good diverse cross section of couples for our study,” Victoria continues. “And it’s important that we choose the right people.”

Victoria looks very genuine when she says it and Patrick feels a little wave of guilt when he thinks about how they’re about to lie. He doesn’t get a chance to feel it for much longer because Pete butts in shamelessly. “Oh, we completely understand. We’re hoping we can be the right people for this.”

“We hope so, too,” Gabe says. “So let’s get started. If we can just run through your questionnaire again and we might ask you elaborate on some of your answers.”

“That’s cool. Shoot,” Pete says, and Patrick wishes he could have an ounce or two of Pete’s calm right now.

He does relax a little as they go down through the questions they’ve already answered. They keep their answers close to the script they practised, and they’ve both read it so many times over the last two days that they can finish each other’s sentences. At some point Pete takes Patrick’s hand and it’s a really nice touch, something that Patrick hadn’t thought about. They’ve been sitting right next to each other, knees touching occasionally, and Patrick suspects that’s partly to morally support each other, but he’d forgotten that a little bit of physical contact can go a long way in a relationship, especially a pretend one.

“So, Pete,” Victoria says. “Tell me, if Patrick had to work abroad or on the other side of the country for a long period of time, is that something that you think you could handle?”

Pete looks at Patrick for a long minute, like he’s considering his answer. “Yes,” he says resolutely. “I’m certain that we’d get through it. I mean, I’d miss him like crazy and my phone bill would be through the roof from calling all the time, but I know that we’d be fine.”

Pete smiles softly at Patrick at the end, and it catches Patrick by surprise how genuine the smile is. He can’t help but return it, but he’s brought back to reality when Gabe says, ”Wonderful. So we just need to throw a few hypothetical questions at you to see how you react, if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Pete says, but Patrick can tell from the little waver in his voice that he’s not so sure.

“What would you do if Patrick cheated on you, Pete?” Victoria asks.

Pete raises an eyebrow. “I’d be fucking devastated that he went behind my back. I’m a jealous guy.”

“Could you forgive him?”

“I don’t know. It would depend on the situation.” Pete looks at Patrick with intent, like he’s trying to figure out _why_ Patrick would do such a thing, even if this is just pretend. “I’d like to think I could. But that sort of thing sucks.”

“Patrick, if Pete lost his job, would you be happy to support him financially as well as emotionally until he got back onto his feet?” Gabe asks.

It kind of throws Patrick because they haven’t practiced this, but he says, “Yes,” pretty quickly. “I think I’d have to, you know. Pete and I have known each other for so long, and even before we got together, I could never just abandon him if he needed me. I don’t think I’d hesitate to help him get back on his feet whatever the situation.”

There’s a few more questions, some of them curve-balls that throw them both, things they haven’t considered at all. It takes a lot for Patrick to stay in character, this character of being Pete’s boyfriend, but just at the start. By the last handful of questions the answers are rolling off his tongue.

The entire time Pete holds Patrick’s hand, and he only drops it after they’ve said polite goodbyes to Victoria and Gabe and they’re clear of the building.

“Do you think we did okay?” he asks.

Patrick runs through the session in his mind and the few bits that stick out to him are all positive so he nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

Pete looks thrilled. “Come on,” he says, wrapping an arm around Patrick’s back and pulling him in for a sideways half-hug. “Let’s grab some food and start planning how we’re going to spend our earnings.” 

*

Pete checks his email right before he leaves the office, and he’s thrilled when he sees one from Gabe Saporta telling him that he’s been accepted into the research program.

He texts Patrick, a simple _We’re in!_ , before he finishes reading the mail. Their research slot is at seven each Thursday evening for six weeks, and that their researchers will be both Gabe and Vicky who they met at the interview.

There’s details attached of what their first session will be about, and Pete opens it, scanning through it quickly. It’s an extension of the interview topics, with an explanation that it will go into further details about how Pete and Patrick met, their first date, and how it all went. That sounds easy to Pete, and he doesn’t think too much more about it until he’s home.

Frank’s in the apartment when Pete gets back. And even though Frank doesn’t actually officially live there, Pete’s never surprised when he sees Frank’s feet on his coffee table, or Frank’s clothes in with their collective laundry.

"'Sup,” Pete says, dumping his jacket and bag and heading for the kitchen.

“Hey. Mikey’s on his way home. I’m making veggie chilli. You want?”

“Yeah, sounds awesome. Hey did you hear back from that research study thing? Me and Patrick got accepted.”

“Oh, that’s rad. We did too.”

“Awesome,” Pete says and holds his hand up for a high five. “Soon we’ll be rolling in dough.”

“Dude, it’s a thousand bucks, not a million,” Frank laughs. “But it’ll be sweet. Doesn’t seem like easy money though. Did you read through all the things in the email? There’s a breakdown of what’s coming up over the weeks and it looks like some of them will be kind of invasive.”

“Really? I didn’t look. Didn’t have time. How bad?”

“Not, like, really, really intimate for the first week, but I think they’ll get worse. The first one is just a lot more details on how you met your partner; the date, the start of the relationship, etc.”

“Yeah, that’s not so bad.”

“It’s fine for me and Mikes. Is it weird having to make things up?” Frank asks, puttering around the kitchen grabbing things from the cupboard, the fridge. Pete’s tasted Frank’s vegetarian chilli before and it’s fucking mind blowing, so it’s nice to see him make it.

“I guess? We didn’t have to go into too much detail yet. I mean, the survey thing and the interview were pretty much the same thing, we only had to think on the spot for a couple of things in the interview. Patrick’s good at improvising. There was only a couple little things we got stuck on.”

“How’d you deal with it?”

“I just held Patrick’s hand and stared at him like I was hoping he’d save us, which wasn’t far from the truth. I think the guy, Gabe, took it as me checking in with him for the answer. He must have bought it because we got chosen anyway.”

Frank laughs. “I’m glad it worked for you. What day of the week are you guys? We’re Fridays at six.”

“Thursdays at seven. So we can give you a heads up.” Pete frowns. “Kind of wish it was the other way around and you could warn us of what’s coming up.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Frank says stirring the awesome pot of chilli which is making Pete hungry just looking at it. Pete hopes it’ll be fine, too.

It's then that Patrick comes home, and the delicious smell of chilli brings him right into the kitchen too. “Pattycakes, my lovely, beautiful and so wonderful fake-boyfriend,” Pete coos.

Patrick’s not in the same mood as Pete. He seems a little out of sorts, and when he says, “Hey, guys,” in a sombre tone, Pete knows something is wrong.

“What’s up, my delicious fake-lover?” Patrick just gives Pete a look, and Pete has an ominous feeling that the fake-boyfriend stuff might be the root cause of it. “Tell me what’s wrong, Patrick?”

“The relationship study thing.”

“You got the email, too?” Frank asks. “I’m glad you guys got chosen. From your face I’m assuming you’re less glad?”

Patrick’s face tightens a little. “It’s not that,” Patrick says, though Pete is now sure that it really is that. “Not really. I’m just. Are you sure this is a good idea, Pete?”

“It totally is. We just pretend for a bit and then get money.”

“It’s really not that simple,” Patrick says, and he sounds a little annoyed like maybe he’s been thinking about this in more detail than Pete has.

“It kind of is, though,” Pete says. But is it? Pete considers the thought of faking love with someone and it is a little daunting, but this is Patrick who he loves to death anyway, just in a different way. He knows he can translate that love into something more for a while, just to pretend. He can see where Patrick’s concerns are coming from though. “I get why you think it’s a bad idea. I do. But we just need to plan it out. How hard can it be? We know each other inside out anyway, and my love for you knows no bounds, Patrick.” Patrick looks a little more relaxed at that even if that’s a long-standing joke between them. 

“I feel guilty though,” Patrick says. His shoulders are still all hunched, and you can almost _see_ the guilt in his muscles. “These people are trying to gather data for a study. I’m assuming they’d like it to be accurate.”

“You think no one else lies?” Frank says. He’s stirring his chilli, but he’s definitely listening to the back-and-forth, definitely not minding his own business. “Me and Mikey lied a little on our questionnaire. Everybody lies.”

“That’s not quite the same as completely making up a relationship,” Patrick says.

“But it’s still not accurate,” Frank offers. “You and Pete can present your relationship and it might not be a real romantic relationship, but there’s still a lot of truth in how you are with each other, your loyalty, your history. Don’t feel too bad, because nothing is ever one hundred percent true, and they’re getting to see a relationship that’s a close friendship anyway.”

Pete can’t take his eyes off of Patrick as Frank finishing speaking, and Patrick looks like those words have hit the spot, have swayed him back into thinking that this can work out. Pete still wants to make sure that Patrick only does this if he’s super comfortable with it.

“Tell you what, if at any point you don’t want to do it, we can just quit it, okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Patrick says.

Pete feels a rush of excitement return to his veins, and as he high-fives Frank and pulls Patrick into a quick, backwards hug he can’t help but look forward to their first session.

*

"It's just a kiss, right? No harm." Patrick doesn't react, and his face is still unreadable. "Look, if we kiss for the first time in front of those guys, they'll know for sure that we're faking it."

“Are we even going to have to kiss in front of them?”

“Maybe? But even if we don’t, we have to describe our first kiss and how do we know unless we’ve done it? It’ll seem fake.”

"You think?" And it's not sarcastic like it was before. Patrick sounds almost concerned, even if there’s nothing in the email that says that they will have to kiss in the session. It makes sense though, _Yeah, we kissed_ is not so descriptive Their first session isn’t for over an hour and they have time to kill, to practice and run through the details of their first date and how they got together. As soon as Pete thought about the first kiss he mentioned it to Patrick and now he’s convinced them both that it’s a good idea.

"It doesn't have to be a big thing. Just a kiss. Didn’t you ever practice kissing with your friends?"

"Isn’t that how porno movies start," Patrick says and he looks like he’s just about managing to keep a straight face.

Pete laughs hard. "Yeah, there's always a flimsy excuse. But we're in Starbucks. Is there Starbucks themed porn? Hook me up if there is, Pattycakes! But I mean, didn’t you practice kissing with friends when you were a teenager?"

Patrick cracks a wide smile. "My best friend as a teenager was Joe, and there’s no way we practiced kissing. But yeah, it’s for a good cause, right? No harm, as you said."

"Right," Pete says. "So how should we do it?"

"I’m not sure, but not right here. Starbucks is kind of weird."

"Yeah, okay,” Pete concedes - it's not so romantic. “Maybe if we pretend like it really was our first date? Or would we have kissed before our first date?"

"We said we were friends first and then got together, so maybe a first kiss would be somewhere casual?"

Pete looks at Patrick carefully - the boy has a point. He thinks how it would happen, if it was real. Pete's a romantic, and he's also spontaneous. If he and Patrick got together as friends, then their first kiss would be somewhere super normal, but in a really romantic way. He stares out the window at anything that might spark his imagination. There's a couple holding hands at a nearby bus stop, but neither Pete not Patrick regularly take the bus so that makes no sense. There's a large group of teens just outside, with two girls just on the outskirts of the group huddling close, but with a group of friends would never be the spot for a first kiss with Patrick because Patrick's pretty private. Pete looks out across the street to the park, to the old couple sitting on a park bench in the cold spring sun, and a lightbulb goes off in his head.

"Grab your coffee, Stump. I have an idea."

They cross the street and head into the park. All the benches near the entrance are occupied, but after a couple of minutes Pete spots a really good location. It's out of the way enough to be quiet, the sun is pouring through a tree overhead leaving everything mottled with spots of shade.

Pete sits down and pulls Patrick by the sleeve to sit beside him.

"What about here?" Pete asks.

"Here? On a park bench? Really?"

"Patrick. I'm a big cheesy, romantic thing-"

"I know. I've seen those Lifetime movies you watch."

Pete ignores him and continues. "I'm a romantic, so I think that somewhere like this would be nice for a first kiss. It's unusual, casual and it's cute, right?"

Patrick bites his lip and looks like he's thinking. Pete tries to watch his face, studying it to see if there's something he should be picking up on. Maybe this is all a terrible idea that Patrick's not comfortable with, and if that's the case then Pete needs to know. He's all too aware that Patrick tends to give in to things he usually wouldn't simply because it's Pete that asked; it’s also a way to make Pete stop pestering him.

"Sure," Patrick says. "There's worse places for a first kiss. So, if we say this was the actual location of our first kiss and then practice kissing here it's going to be more believable?"

"I think so," Pete says, and he does.

Even though this was of course Pete's idea, and even though he's no stranger to kissing, and even though this is just Patrick, for god's sake, there's still a tiny ball of nerves in his stomach as they get into position. They sit almost facing each other, Pete with his leg tucked up under him, and then Pete leans in before he can change his mind.

Pete has kissed Patrick before, but on the cheek and always in an obnoxious way and without finesse or care.

This kiss is so slow to begin, and Pete feels like he's leaning in forever before his lips touch Patrick's. When their lips do meet, Pete is almost surprised, like he expected to be sitting there leaning forward with his eyes closed and lips waiting, and for Patrick to change his mind. But that's not the case, and his mouth is right there, _kissing_ Pete. It's slow, so slow, and when Pete parts his lips he catches Patrick's full bottom lip between both of his just briefly.

It's a really gorgeous kiss, and if Patrick was kissing Pete for real then Pete would be halfway in love by now. But this is just pretend, he reminds himself, so he just tries to focus on the details; Patrick’s soft lips, the gentle sound of Patrick’s breathing, the hint of caramel-coffee on Patrick’s breath. These sort of details are golden, and will sound perfect for if Pete needs to recite their first kiss. But it feels like a perfect first kiss, regardless, one that he would be happy to have at the beginning of any relationship. 

There’ a tiny hitch in Patrick’s breath, one so small that Pete almost misses it, almost thinks he imagines it. Pete feels his pulse increase, and he’s not one to blush often, but the way Patrick mouth feels against to his puts a warmth in his cheeks. It’s easy to get carried away and kiss just that little bit harder than he intended.

Pete forgets himself for a split second, lost in the kiss, and he moves his hand to rest on Patrick's thigh, and then slides it upwards. Even for a real first kiss that can be a bold move, and in this instance, this fake-kiss, it makes Patrick pull back an inch so that their kiss is broken.

"Um," Patrick says.

"Sorry."

"Yeah," Patrick laughs lightly, and they’re still close enough that the laugh ghosts over Pete's chin. "I had a feeling you'd be kind of handsy when you kiss."

Pete knows it's a joke, and he laughs too, but something fizzes in his stomach at the same time, and he doesn't think it's the extra shot he got in his latte.

"Sorry," he says again.

"It's fine.” Patrick clears his throat and moves back a little bit, back out of kissing distance. “Good for the story."

“So the kiss was okay, right? Works as a nice first kiss? If I’m fake-dating you, I want you to have a nice fake first kiss, too.”

“It was fine, Pete. It was a good kiss.” _Fine_ and _Good_ are not words that Pete would use to describe that kiss, but he’s not going to push his luck.

"Yeah," Pete says. "So, anything else we need for our story?" And it almost feels like changing the subject even if that's the whole point of this.

"Maybe if we run through it all again?" Patrick says. His body is still facing Pete, still close enough from their kiss that Pete could just lean over again and go for it.

"Okay. So we were friends and we got closer,” Pete says. “We kissed for the first time on a park bench, and then we decided to try to have a date after that. Out date was-"

"Good or awful?"

"Good, but with some awful bits. Like, we had dinner but the waiter spilled ice water all over me so it looked like I pissed my pants."

"But you refused to go home-" Patrick adds.

"Because that would end our date early, right?" Pete says and Patrick grins in reply. "So we had dinner, me with wet pants, and I insisted we split a dessert because even though I was full after dinner I wanted something sweet."

"And you did the cheesy thing of feeding me a spoonful of-- what kind of desert?"

"Something chocolate and vanilla? And I wanted to feed you some so that when we kissed on the way home I'd taste the sweetness on your lips, and I’d taste of sugar too, so you’d want to kiss me more."

Patrick smiles sweetly like he approves of Pete's cheesy date moves. Pete's thoroughly enjoying his imaginary date with Patrick and it already sounds a million times better than any real date he's been on lately. Patrick's smile is infectious, so Pete's grinning when he says, 

"Then what? Did we continue for more date night things after dinner?"

"I dunno? No, I don’t think so. We decided it was better to end it on a high note."

"Did we go home together?" Pete asks, and his stomach does that thing again, though he's still not sure why. His hypothetical-self is obviously hopeful that hypothetical-Patrick will say yes.

"No," Patrick says resolutely. "I don't generally do that on the first date. Especially even I actually really like the person."

"Oh, I so do," Pete says, and Patrick laughs again. "So, I would have asked you to come home with me. But when you said no, I told you I'd make sure it was worth it if you were ever to change your mind."

"Fuck, Pete. Are these the moves you play on every date?" And Patrick sounds baffled, and almost impressed.

"Only on the really good dates. So, who texted who first after? I bet I'd texted you before I'd even gotten home!"

"Yeah, I bet you did. Did you ask me out again?"

"God, yeah. So fast. I wanted to make sure you knew what a good time I had, and how much I liked you. I wanted you to know how much you meant to me, and not just as a friend anymore.”

Pete's stomach does that thing a third time as he speaks, and this time it swoops right down, low in his body. He stares at Patrick, unable to take his eyes off him, and it's only for a minute because the whole time he can hear an airplane overhead getting louder and then quieter, acting like a timer for the real world. It feels like much longer, as his mind runs through their pretend date from start to finish again.

Patrick clears his throat again and it breaks the spell, the comfortable silence, and it brings Pete right back to the moment.

"So we're all set?"

"Yeah," Pete says, unsure why he's sad to get up from the bench and head to their research session. "Want to grab another coffee before we go?"

"No, I won't sleep if I have any more caffeine today."

"Hot chocolate, then? On me?"

"Sure,” Patrick concedes. "Let's go."

Pete can't explain it, but he's sure his urge to take Patrick's hand as they walk is down to his wish to practice for their session, and obviously nothing more.

*

Sometimes Patrick wonders how he ends up in weird situations - like a pretending to be in a long-term, committed relationship for money - but one look at Pete’s cheeky, persuasive grin and Patrick knows the answer.

He and Pete have been more of less inseparable since they became friends, and while Patrick is headstrong and independent, he’s always been a just a little bit less so when it comes to Pete. As annoying and loud and ridiculous as Pete can be - and he can be all of those things, sometimes all at once - he has an easy charm about him that somehow sells his crackpot ideas so very well.

When Patrick’s lease ran out on his last apartment and he needed somewhere to live, of course Pete suggested that Patrick take the spare room in his and Mikey’s place. And while Patrick thought it could be a terrible idea - too much of a good thing, even friendship, can sometimes be bad - he found himself saying _yes_ , but inwardly deciding it would just be for a little while. 

Of course it wasn’t, and they’ve been roommates for a little over two years now, Patrick somehow forgetting that he was supposed to move on and maybe find a place by himself.

The thing is, that they got on so well that he never had the urge to be a grown-up and live by himself, because it felt like home right in their tiny apartment.

When Patrick first moved in, he was cautious not to upset the roommate balance that was Pete-and-Mikey, and for the first little while he kept to himself, marking papers for school in his room and eating out. But after only a couple of weeks he felt like an idiot to ever think that he wouldn’t be welcome in the shared spaces, that he would ever be intruding on their existing routines.

Evening meals have become pretty easy going, with no set routine or proper order. Sometimes it’s Patrick at home by himself and sometimes it’s the three of them with Frank thrown in for good measure. More often than not it’s just Patrick and Pete there, so they end up with a vague unofficial rota for cooking, one that relies heavily on what might be in the back of the refrigerator and/or any provisions they might be clever enough to pick up on the way back home. 

Patrick, of course, no longer marks papers in his room, but spread out in the living room, sometimes with Pete helping him if he’s very pushed for time - not that he could ever tell the school that. But those evenings usually make for interesting ones, and Pete will bring supplies of junk food or terribly cheesy movies to watch as rewards for when they’re finished. Most of those nights end up with Patrick sitting slumped on the couch, Pete’s feet in his lap, giggling from tiredness but utterly happy.

Patrick has to actively ignore the parallels that Pete describes in one of their relationship studies, the ones that describe how he and Pete fell in love while doing similar things like giggling over Patrick’s term papers, or Pete’s half written articles. 

Their morning routine is not quite a routine because while Patrick keeps regular hours for school, Pete’s hours for writing can range from normal nine-to-five hours, to crazy late nights to cover sports matches - and yes, Patrick thinks of them collectively as _sports matches_ because he mostly can’t tell the difference, though Pete often brings him back cool shirts or caps or other souvenirs.

But most mornings Patrick is up first, and as tired as he usually is, he still manages to make a pot of coffee, and he always makes sure there’s enough for Pete too. When Pete has an early morning start, Patrick is so grateful for coffee and toast - actual, real food meaning his tummy doesn’t rumble during his first period class.

And that’s another thing he finds that comes up during their session time with Gabe and Victoria - how their daily routines have become the foundations of their relationship. It feels quite strange to take things that are so familiar and ordinary for Patrick, things that he takes for granted, and flip them over entirely. Pete begins to use the phrase, _If I was your boyfriend…_ quite often, and it’s not creepy, like it could be, but it makes Patrick wonder just how much brainpower Pete is actually using on something that’s supposed to be just for fun and for extra cash.

After one too many of their mundane little things being turned on it’s head by Pete - “If I was your boyfriend, I’d find it totally romantic when you pick up my favourite sushi on your way home, Pattycakes” - Patrick finds himself talking to Mikey about it, without meaning to. 

“How’s your relationship study-thing, going?” Patrick asks he putters around the kitchen.

Mikey has a comic book in front of him on the kitchen table.

“Yeah, it’s going okay, I think. Weird to talk about stuff with a stranger, I guess. But it’s helped me and Frank figure a few things out too.”

“Like what?” because even if he and Frank are already a couple and Pete and Patrick are not, Patrick’s thinking differently too, so it’s worth asking.

“I guess there’s lots we never talked about. The future and stuff. Frank wants kids and lots of them, and I never really thought about it. And it’s not that I don’t want them, kids are great and all, I just figured I’d make the decision when we were in a position to actually have them. You know, financially stable, not spending all our money on comic books and records.”

Patrick laughs. “Do you think that day will come? I’m sure you can still buy stuff when you’re a parent?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just that now we’re actually talking about stuff like that, you know.”

“Is that a good thing?” Patrick asks, cautious in case this is something that should be handled carefully.

“Yeah. Yeah, it really is. I like talking about the future with Frank, and not just who’s house we’ll sleep in next week, or whatever. It’s made me realise that my future is with him for sure. It feels good.”

Patrick can’t help but smile, and he briefly thinks of the talk that he and Pete had about their imaginary counterparts and their imaginary future together. He feels a flutter of butterflies in his chest that are surely second hand from Mikey and how genuinely happy he looks when talking about Frank. It’s sweet.

Patrick’s little bubble of feel-good is replaced by mild panic when Mikey asks, “What about you guys? Has to be weird talking about your friendship as if you’re in love.”

“Yeah. I mean, so far it’s been okay, if a little surreal. I don’t particularly like lying though, that’s making me feel pretty guilty.”

“Can’t be that much that’s a lie, though?” Mikey asks, and Patrick just stares at him, puzzled, because the whole thing is a lie really. Mikey continues, though, “I’m guessing a lot of what you think are lies, really aren’t. Like all your little friendship things, how you met, whatever. They’re relationship things. You know there’s tons of actual couples that aren’t as close as you two, that don’t know as much about each other as you two. You’ve seen each other at your absolute worst. The only thing that’s missing is the fucking,” Mikey says dismissively, and Patrick blushes hard. “Cut yourself some slack, Patrick.”

“It’s not like that,” Patrick says, knowing his voice sounds just that little bit too harsh. Why is he angry when he knows Mikey’s just joking around?

“What’s it like then?” Mikey asks, his vision firmly back on his comic.

“I dunno. I just -- you know how Pete gets. He never does anything half-assed. He just throws himself fully into things without thinking. I don’t want him taking this too far and using our imaginary relationship as a distraction.” Patrick sighs, knowing exactly what he’s worried about. Seeing Pete act so convincingly in love, knowing Pete’s ability to never let things go, he confesses, “I don’t want him to get any ideas. I don’t want to act all lovey-dovey - even if it’s just for the sessions. I don’t want to lead him on.”

Mikey’s back to staring at him, his comic going ignored once more. “If you say so, dude. I get that. But you know Pete’s a big boy that can look after himself. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”

Patrick closes the fridge for the fifth time, not finding what he’s looking for because he doesn’t know what he’s looking for. Mikey might be sure that Pete knows what he’s doing, but the knot in Patrick’s stomach makes him not so sure himself.

*

 

Patrick finds it stranger than he ever thought possible to sit in an office with two relative strangers and make polite conversation about an imaginary relationship he has with his best friend. Even after several weeks of it, it still feels incredibly odd.

At first it’s bizarre, and he tries to mostly stay quiet, fearful that he’ll blurt out unnecessary information or contradict something that they’ve already said and it will give them away. But for all of Pete’s stupid ideas and bravado and ability to make himself look like he doesn’t care about anything, Patrick knows him well enough to know he’s nervous too. So Patrick has to swallow his nerves and speak up when Pete gives him pleading, desperate looks for answers they haven’t rehearsed.

While it’s all fun and games talking through an imaginary date with Pete in the park, or make up fantasy dates and scenarios, it’s quite another to sit in a warm room and recite it back to strangers.

Patrick’s sweating hard, cursing the fact that he wore so many layers today. He wishes he wasn’t the one trying to stumble through the details of their fake first date.

He manages it, but only just, and he hopes he’s made it sound convincing as he fabricates his feeling of warmth and love on a date that never happened. 

“So, did you know right away that you wanted to see Pete again?” Victoria asks.

“Well, I’ve known Pete for years, so I wouldn’t exactly call it right away,” Patrick says, and it makes both Gabe and Victoria smile. Pete squeezes Patrick’s hand so knows he’s doing okay. “But right after that first date? Yes, I knew. Pete texted me while I was still on my way home. He was flirty and sweet in his texts, and I knew.”

Pete’s looking convincingly in love, with big hearts in his eyes as he watches Patrick’s face, so Patrick gives himself a big mental pat on the back once they’re clear of the session.

The session that’s centred on their sex life is every bit as awkward as Patrick imagined it would be.

The questions are personal, and most of them involve details he wouldn’t share with close friends, never mind strangers. Not to mention how weird it feels to be talking with Pete about all of this. Patrick’s a private guy, and he’s always maintained that his sex life should be kept between him and whoever he’s actually having sex with.

But then, within the confines of this research study, Patrick is supposed to be dating Pete, so maybe that makes it okay?

It still feels weird, though.

“So, can you tell us about the first time you slept together? Go into as much or as little detail as you like,” Victoria says.

Patrick wonders how people manage to ask questions like that without blushing, because he’s blushing even thinking about answering. Pete gets there first though.

“So, me and Patrick had known each other forever before we kissed, as we mentioned before. But once we had a date, I asked him to bunk over with me. Patrick declined, and he declined the next time I asked too. And the next time, right?” He looks at Patrick and Patrick half nods, not sure how many dates they agreed it had been. “And then finally, we had dinner in my place. And Patrick being over at my place was nothing new, but this time it felt different. The atmosphere was electric, like we both knew something awesome was going to happen. After dinner we sat on the couch and watched a movie. It was a James Bond movie, and we were really into it, but I felt this, like, gravitational pull towards Patrick. So as we watched I think I was inching towards him on the sofa.”

Pete gives Patrick a long look like he’s considering, and Patrick’s sure that Pete is just trying to remember all the details right, but he still feels something stir inside him, because there’s a lot of intent in that look.

“By the end of the movie, my thigh was pressed right up against his and we were holding hands. It was really tame, but my whole body felt like it was on fire. I felt like I knew he’d say yes if I asked him to stay. And he did. We went to bed together,” Pete says, and pauses to he take a breath. “I’ve been around the block, I’ll be the first to admit, and it’s different sleeping with anybody new. But it was really different with Patrick. I couldn’t get over how gorgeous Patrick was, still is; he still takes my breath away.”

Patrick’s blushing wildly because Pete sounds so convincing that he’s almost believing it himself.

Victoria looks interested. “Can you tell us some more details?”

“Like what actually went down between us?” Pete asks. He looks a little hesitant. He glances over at Patrick again like he’s checking if it’s okay to say more. They’d agreed that they could give some details of their imaginary fuck if they needed to, so Patrick nods to let Pete continue.

Pete smiles that soft, goofy smile at Patrick and continues. “So, when we got to my bed we made out for ages. We took off our clothes. It was all very slow and careful. I think because it took us years to get to that point, we didn’t want to rush it. There was really no need.” Pete shrugs, and Patrick’s cheeks burn even more. The idea of sleeping together and being so cautious with each other is a really wonderful thought, one that makes Patrick forget momentarily that this isn’t real. He must look a little wide-eyed because Pete squeezes his hand. “We cuddled after, though we used to cuddle when we were just friends, just, you know, with our clothes on,” he laughs. “Patrick stayed the night. And I couldn’t believe that he was still there when I woke up. Like, maybe it could have been a really good dream, but he was still there.”

Both Gabe and Victoria look enthralled by Pete’s storytelling, and Patrick is still so impressed that Pete sounds so believable - he’s even got this little wistful twinkle in his eye.

“That’s great,” Gabe says. “Can we ask some more questions about your sex life?” Patrick nods because he’s sure he has to. “Can you tell us about your day to day sex life? Do you sleep together on the regular?”

“Hell, yeah,” Pete says, far too enthusiastically. It sounds too stark a contrast to his beautiful description of their first time together, so Patrick decides to jump in.

“We have a fairly healthy sex life,” he says. “We don’t have sex every single day.” Pete pouts perfectly. “But it’s every other day, right?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty often. We try to keep it fresh.”

Pete’s gaze lingers on Patrick again, and drops briefly to Patrick’s mouth. Patrick makes a mental note to congratulate Pete on his acting skills because he’s doing so well.

“Are you adventurous?” Gabe asks.

“Like trying out kinks and stuff?” Pete asks. “I guess so. We’re both pretty open minded. I think even if I was to go to Patrick with something unusual that I wanted to try, even if he’s not into it, he wouldn’t laugh in my face.”

“We know each other’s boundaries,” Patrick adds.

“Patrick can be a little shy to ask for what he wants sometimes,” Pete adds, and Patrick blushes again, just going one shade redder than the puce he already is. “But we work it out.”

“Shy how?” Gabe asks.

Pete throws Patrick a look and Patrick wonders if he’s checking in. Pete doesn’t wait for the go ahead though, he just continues on. 

“Like there was this time he wanted to try a specific position, but he didn’t ask for it, he just asked me a couple times if I’d ever tried it without actually saying anything else. I had to take the hint.”

Patrick says nothing and just raises his eyebrows at Pete. That obviously never happened, but Patrick has asked Pete things before by hinting instead of asking direct questions. Usually they relate to Pete’s mental state or stress levels, not wanting to jump right in. Patrick’s kind of pissed that Pete is using this in the session though, and he’s not sure he likes how it makes him look if he can’t bring himself to ask his supposed boyfriend for something sex related.

“Is there anything you can think of that one has suggested that the other has shut down the idea of?” Gabe asks.

“Public sex,” Pete says quickly, and again Patrick feels his eyebrows rise. Pete’s had these answered prepared it seems. “I mean, going at it where someone might hear us or catch us, not actually doing it in front of an audience. And I get why Patrick’s not into that, he’s a private guy.”

There’s a curious smirk on Gabe’s face, and Patrick wonder’s how much he’s enjoying gathering the gory details of other people relationships, and on a personal level, not just an observational one.

“Anything else?” Gabe asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Pete says, so enthusiastic, and Patrick feels a knot of worry in his stomach. He would very much like to steer this conversation back to vague and boring, but it sounds like Pete’s on a roll. “So, I don’t know how graphic you want me to get, but it’s like I have to pry things out of him that he likes. Like, I’m pretty vocal about what I like, but Patrick wouldn’t tell me for ages how much he likes his nipples being played with-”

“Pete!” Patrick snaps, flushing fire-engine red from the shock of Pete saying something so unexpected.

“What?” Pete asks innocently. 

Patrick wishes so desperately he could telepathically communicate _Shut the Fuck Up_ but he settles on glaring angrily at Pete instead. Patrick can’t even compute the thoughts of Pete _playing with his nipples_ because he’s internally freaking out so hard, but his stomach does a little flip that’s almost completely anger.

“Pete. Don’t,” is all Patrick says, sweating hard now.

“I like it when Patrick tells me what to do. I’m so into it,” Pete smirks, and Patrick wishes he had something to smack him with.

The rest of the session continues in the same vein, and Patrick sits there wishing for death as Pete rattles off a handful more details about their imaginary sex life. Patrick can’t pinpoint exactly why he’s so angry, whether it’s because it’s more detail than he would ever give away on his own, or something else.

He’s steaming mad by the time they leave and though they held hands throughout the hour in Gabe’s office, Patrick snatches his hand back as soon as they’re out of sight.

“Christ, Pete. Did you have to say all those things?” 

And Pete, to Patrick’s utter disbelief, looks surprised. “You’re mad?” He scans Patrick’s face. “Shit. Of course you’re mad. I thought you were just _acting_ mad. I gave too much away, right?”

“I like my nipples being played with?” Patrick almost yells and receives a shocked look from a woman walking by.

“I just sort of ad libbed. The room was kind of cold and you look like you’re smuggling peanuts in that shirt. I was inspired, I guess.” He smiles like it’s funny, and all Patrick can do is hold his hand over his chest to cover his nipples, as if that makes any fucking difference now. He tries not to think about the fact that Pete even noticed his nipples because that’s verging on the absurd.

“Let's just drop it,” Patrick says. “Just. Stop talking for now. Please.”

“Sorry,” Pete says, and he does sound sorry. He bumps his shoulder against Patrick, but Patrick doesn’t bump back. He’s still mad, still processing everything. 

They’re a block from the apartment, and neiher of them have spoken a single word all the way back home. Pete has been quiet, thankfully, and Patrick’s starting to cool down, let the session and embarrassment empty from his body when he catches Pete’s eye. Pete grins one of those stupid, big toothy Wentz grins. “Is this our first lover’s tiff? It totally is, right? We should make note the details of the fight, right? So we can mention it in a session?”

Patrick stops dead, his annoyance resurfacing. He has to bite his tongue and not say, _And then you can tell them about how I made you sleep on the couch_ , because it feels incredibly coupley, and a little close to the bone. He just glares at Pete and Pete seems to take the hint, looking sheepish and miming zipping his mouth shut.

Patrick’s exhausted, both from a long day at school and an emotionally draining evening. He gives Pete a tight lipped grimace, ignoring Pete’s sparkling brown eyes and curious expression. Patrick just wants to sit down and forget today, and yet he can’t stop thinking about the hour just spent talking about his non-existent sex life.

*

Later, when they get home, Pete can tell that Patrick’s still kind of mad, but he’s simmering rather than boiling over.

Pete’s in a decent mood, and he’s already apologised so he’s not going to continue to beat himself up when he didn’t mean to overshare. Really, he just got carried away being in character, and maybe it’s actually helped them look more authentic.

They’re on the couch in sweats and pyjamas, and Pete’s channel hopping trying to find something entertaining to watch while Patrick ignores him.

Pete finally finds a really fucking amazing thing to watch, and with a grin to himself he puts down the remote.

“I’m not watching this shit,” Patrick snaps.

“It’s not shit. It’s amazing. These movies are fucking grade A drama. This one is a guy who has a wife and not one, but two mistresses, and all of the women team up and murder the guy so that they can split his money. It’s fucking awesome. It’s got a terrible plot and, like, blurry softcore porn-type love scenes. It’s top notch stuff, Pattycakes.”

“These are for lonely housewives in their forties. And last time I checked you don’t fit that demographic.”

“Fuck that. They’re awesome. I’m watching it.”

“No. You’ve been hogging the remote all night. There’s that documentary on Bowie on in a couple of minutes. I wanna watch that.”

“The same documentary we’ve seen twice before, that we have recorded?”

Patrick doesn’t answer, just gives Pete a tight lipped smile and Pete knows he’s right. Patrick goes to grab the remote, but Pete just tightens his fingers over it and shakes his head. “Mine,” he says.

Apparently Patrick’s not in the mood for playing or watching awesome romance dramas, because he just scowls and says, “Don’t be a dick.”

“I’m not.”

Patrick sighs and says, “You are.”

“I’m just watching a movie, Patty-Pat-Pattycakes.”

“Yeah, and last night you were playing video games all night with Mikey. We share the TV, you know. Don’t be a dick, that documentary is only an hour long.”

“But my drama-fest will be done by then.”

“Record it,” Patrick says.

Pete laughs, and that’s the wrong reaction for Patrick because he looks more annoyed. “Dude, you have the Bowie thing recorded already so that idea is bullshit.”

“Pete, just c’mon.” Patrick makes a swipe for the remote again, but when Pete pulls it away this time, Patrick moves with him.

“Careful, Patrick.”

“Pete,” Patrick says, his teeth gritted, cheeks reddening, clearly getting more pissed off.

“Patrick,” Pete singsongs, wiggling the remote. He has no idea why he’s suddenly in an antagonising mood, why he feels like riling up Patrick. Really, he just wanted to watch his movie. Now he wants to goof around, and Patrick’s not biting, but winding up Patrick’s been the way Pete’s gotten Patrick’s attention for years. It seems to be enough for Patrick to snap. He lunges bodily across Pete to try to snatch the remote, and misses by an inch.

Pete’s still grinning and thinking he’s won when he gets a surprise elbow to the ribs which makes him drop the remote.

“Oof, fucking violent. Thought we were just playing, Tricky.”

“Just quit being an asshole, for fuck’s sake.”

The remote is lying by Pete’s thigh and Patrick makes a grab for it again. He does manage to get it this time, but only for a second. While Patrick’s leaning right over Pete, Pete sticks two fingers into Patrick’s armpit. It’s supposed to be a distracting tickle attack, but Patrick moves, traps Pete’s hand between his torso and arm, and it means that Pete has to move with Patrick when Patrick pulls back.

In the midst of their fighting the TV station changes from Pete’s movie, to the news, to a gardening show, to documentary about the Black Death and on to a show containing hits from the eighties.

It goes from mini-squabble over the remote to an all-out wrestling match in a matter of minutes and it happens when Pete knocks the remote onto the floor. His plan was to knock the batteries out so that the TV program couldn’t be changed, but the remote lying on the floor half under the coffee table will do almost the same. Patrick doesn’t give up that easily though, and stretches right across using his full body weight, lying on Pete on the process.

“Jesus, Pete. You’re an asshole.”

“That’s me, Tricky-Patrick. Just give in and I promise I won’t beat you into the ground.”

“You fucking wish.”

Patrick manages to get Pete completely on his back and then squashes a cushion over his face. If this was an action movie, Pete would imagine that Patrick’s trying to suffocate him, but Patrick’s hold on the cushion is light and Pete just bats it off so that it lands on the floor.

With Patrick’s hands free again, he goes for Pete’s wrists this time, struggling at first and then managing to hold them down to the couch.

“Fucking deceptively strong asshole,” Pete grits out. He’s sweating now, and though he’s still halfway amused, especially at how mad Patrick’s gotten over this, he’s still determined to win this stupid fucking wrestling match so that he can watch his awful romance movie.

He wiggles his hand free from Patrick’s grip and pushes it up into Patrick’s face. It’s not a hard push, he’s not actually trying to hurt Patrick, just push him off. Patrick grabs it easily and hold it down to the couch again so that Pete is pinned there.

It’s a stalemate; Pete has more physical strength, but Patrick is a sneaky bastard who plays dirty. This isn’t going to end well, and they both seem to get that. So they’re stuck in that position, Patrick straddling Pete and holding him down, both breathing heavily from the fight, and Pete can’t explain why, but his hips have a life of their own when the raise ever so slightly and push up against Patrick’s.

Pete watches Patrick’s face, looking for any sign that he’s about to get a knee to the balls for that, or to see if Patrick even noticed anything. Patrick’s face barely, barely moves except for a tiny twitch of his lips. Patrick’s noticed, and because he hasn’t reacted any more than that, Pete can’t help but arch again, a molten-slow roll of his hips upwards against Patrick. His heart is thumping so hard and his head is spinning, and he’s no idea if he’s doing this to wind Patrick up so that he can win their fight, or if he’s doing it because it feels surprisingly hot to be pinned down with Patrick on top of him. He’s not sure he cares which one it is, because Patrick’s eyes are on him now, hot and dark, so Pete grinds upwards again.

“Pete,” Patrick says, and his voice comes out all low and breathy. The way Patrick says his name only encourages Pete more, because it doesn’t sound like a warning or a request to stop, and Pete for sure doesn’t want to stop. Pete arches against Patrick again, and Pete’s certain that Patrick must know how turned on he is, and really one of them should put an end to this. But then Patrick shuts his eyes and bites his lip the next time Pete moves and the thought gets pushed right out of his head.

Pete’s breathing gets heavier, and so does Patrick’s. The way Patrick’s chest rises in the quick in-breath, and the almost-moan he makes on his exhale stirs something in Pete and he wiggles his hand free from Patrick’s grip. This time Patrick doesn’t fight it, doesn’t try to catch it again and hold it down. Instead Patrick lets Pete pull him down by a handful of hoody, and then lets Pete kiss him.

The kiss takes Pete’s breath away, as if he wasn’t out of breath already. Patrick’s lips are hot, urgent, and the kiss is instantly deep, with _tongues_ which they never did when they practice-kissed.

Maybe it’s that pent-up aggression from their fight, or maybe it’s that feeling that Pete’s had in his stomach so many times lately, but Pete can’t stop, doesn’t want to.

His hips keep moving as he kisses Patrick, but Patrick’s doing it too now, grinding down, rubbing against Pete. Their position changes, and Patrick shifts so that he’s no longer straddling Pete. His thigh ends up between both of Pete’s, which gives Pete something to press against, gives him perfect friction when he moves, and he’s so hard now, but he can feel Patrick’s hard-on too.

The kiss breaks apart, but Patrick doesn’t move away. He just buries his head into Pete’s neck as they continue to move together. Pete can’t think at all because there’s no blood left in his brain to operate anything but his hips as he keeps rubbing himself against Patrick.

He’s so close so quickly, panting into the air as Patrick’s weight presses him down. He can feel Patrick’s chest _heaving_ and smell the clean-sweat from his neck, and then without warning, Patrick stops moving entirely, his body going completely stiff all sound cutting off. It takes Pete’s brain a second too long to realise that Patrick has just come, and that throws him over the edge, too. With another thrust of his hips he’s coming in his pants like he’s fifteen again.

Pete is King of the Castle when it comes to _It was a good idea at the time_ ideas, and he knows all too well how actions have consequences, even if he sometimes forgets it. The consequences of rubbing off against Patrick seem to be that Patrick just climbs off Pete, red-faced and sweaty, and hands him the remote - who would have seen that coming?

Pete flicks back on to his Lifetime movie because he’s not sure what else to do. There’s a whole five minutes where they sit in silence watching the three spurned lovers plot revenge, and Pete has to sit on his hands to stop from squirming. Finally, as Pete watches one of the mistresses stir rat poison into her lover’s coffee, he manages to be brave enough to break the weird silence by saying, “Um.”

Patrick just looks at him, wide eyed and silent, and Pete can’t help but laugh. Maybe it’s nerves, maybe it’s the relief that Patrick’s still sitting beside him, maybe it’s because Pete is orgasm-relaxed, but he laughs, and as soon as he does, Patrick cracks a wide smile too.

“I don’t really know what to say after that,” Patrick says quietly.

“Right? We’ve never done that before.” Of course they haven’t, and even if Pete’s been feeling different about Patrick because they’ve been having to act all coupley and cute, he still wasn’t expecting something like a war over the remote to end up as rubbing off on each other. “I’m thinking it’s just from all that talk of our imaginary sex life? It must be.”

Patrick looks like he’s thinking, but he shrugs and repeats, “It must be. I mean, we’ve been acting like a couple. It sort of makes sense that something like that would happen at some point.”

“And I haven’t gotten laid in fucking ages,” Pete offers, regretting it instantly, because what has that got to do with anyway?

“Me either, but that’s not really the point,” Patrick laughs. “Will we call it research?”

Pete blinks at Patrick and tries to think. The memory of Patrick hard against his thigh is very fresh and very vivid, and smell of Patrick’s deodorant and sweat are still lodged in his sinuses. He thinks of how much time they’ve been spending thinking about their imaginary relationship and going through so many intimate details. Despite the fact that these details might be lies, they’ve started to blur with reality. As much as Pete couldn’t have imagined this actually happening, he really can’t imagine it happening again, so he nods. “Research.” He pauses and scans Patrick’s face again, checking for anything that Patrick might be hiding, but he comes up with nothing. “Are we good?” Because he doesn’t want something like this to get between them. The last thing he ever wanted when he decided to sign up for the research sessions and start lying his ass off was to cause any sort of bad feeling.

“Yeah, we’re fine.”

Pete grins, relieved. “Do you want to watch the end of the Bowie thing?”

“And miss how these women cover up that asshole’s murder? Nope.”

But Pete’s a fucking idiot. No, really. 

How did he think that he could go about his daily life unchanged when he’s pretending to be in love with someone, with _Patrick_ of all people. Seriously, this is one of the stupidest things he’s ever done.

It’s when he he’s just about to close his bedroom door, right after his stupid cheesy lifetime movie is over and he and Patrick are heading to their respective bedrooms for the night. Patrick gives Pete a warm smile as they part and Pete has an overwhelming urge to take Patrick’s hand and follow him into his room and kiss until they fall asleep.

He thinks of this as he lies face down on his pillow wishing he could scream into it without alerting someone, most likely Patrick, who’s just next door, who he’s just fucking _rubbed off against_ , Jesus, fuck.

As if rubbing off against Patrick wasn’t weird enough - weird in a totally comfortable, not-so-weird-after-all sort of way - now he has all these fucking feelings to try to sort through too, oh god!

And Christ, getting himself off by rubbing against Patrick was insanely hot, hotter than he would have thought, considering how little nudity and actual bodily contact was involved. Even the terrible nineties’ music show on the TV didn’t dampen the fire between them.

Pete would have believed it when they called it _research_ if it was just a physical release without any emotion attached. Holding hands and cuddling sound like emotions though, and Pete pulls his covers over his head and silently screams again at the thought.

How did he think this was a good idea? How did he not see this coming? How did he not put two and two together and realise that those little swoops he’s been getting in his stomach throughout their pretending were actually fucking _butterflies_?

He’s always been halfway in love with Patrick. Since the day they met, Pete has known that the universe somehow revolves around Patrick’s magnificence, but he always thought that it must be in a mostly-platonic way, because Patrick really is magnificent and wonderful and amazing, and Pete is sure that most people feel that way once they get to know Patrick.

But seeing that he now knows he’s been experiencing fluttery butterflies this whole time, he starts to wonder how much of their fake relationship he’s actually been faking, and what’s been real without him knowing.

He manages to sleep that night but his dreams are all weird. It’s like an adventure dream where he’s searching and searching an old house for Patrick, and every time he thinks he’s found him there’s something to stop Pete or distract him like a huge dog, his family, one of the mistresses from his movie delivering him rat-poison pizza. He wakes up exhausted.

Without thinking, he grabs one of Patrick’s hoodies on the way to work and then regrets his decision because it’s big and cosy and smells of Patrick. It feels like he’s wrapped himself up in Patrick’s essence, so it makes it difficult to think of much else.

Work is a bust; he writes fuck all, but he still has time to meet his deadline so it’s not too worried.

He hits the gym hard on the way home. He skips his run and takes a spinning class instead, throwing everything he has into cycling that fucking bike. He thinks it’ll clear his head, and it kind of does. He feels much better when he showers at the gym and grabs some groceries on his way back to the apartment.

His mood changes a little when he sees Patrick. Everything feels so normal between them as they cook pasta and flop on the couch together. Pete almost wonders if he imagined their little incident, but he has proof, creepy, creepy proof; his come-stained boxers are still in his laundry hamper.

The thought sends a shiver through him and when Patrick quirks an eyebrow at him, he excuses himself to go finish writing his article.

The article doesn’t get written that night or the next. All weekend he just stares into space instead of into his Word document, and he finally writes a pathetic, half-hearted opinion piece on the upcoming matches for the ice hockey season.

Somewhere in the middle of it he tells himself that it’s not so bad if he’s developed feelings for one of his oldest friends, because that’s what they’ve been pretending anyway. It’s surely just a crush, and maybe he can fuel their make-believe relationship with some not-so-fake feelings to make them seem more convincing now. Once he has their sessions over with he can move on and get back to normality. It’s fine. Really.

By Sunday evening he’s trying desperately to fix up his article before he sends it to his editor. He decides to give himself an incentive; work hard, get this done, keep his mind on his work for one whole hour and he can have an orgasm at the end of it. It’s a decent prize. He hasn’t jerked off since he and Patrick had their little moment, half afraid that that he might think of Patrick instead of one of his usual fantasies.

So he writes his review of the Penguin’s game - the last game he watched - and it’s pretty decent in the end. He’s proud of himself, so he claps down his laptop and settles on his bed knowing he’s _earned_ this. He takes off his t-shirt and pulls down his sweats to give himself easy access and starts to touch himself. 

Considering he’s just been writing about hockey players, he indulges in a fantasy revolving around joining the whole team in the showers afterwards. It’s a fantasy he pulls out of his spank bank when he feels like he needs a treat, but as he’s furiously jacking himself off, as he’s imagining the whole team giving him the once over, all those hands and mouths on him, the thought of Patrick hard and pressed against his thigh creeps back in.

He goes hard at himself pretty quickly, and he knows he’s not going to last today because he hasn’t done this in days. When he thinks about Patrick, all of the faces of the team he’s been pretty happy imagining a gangbang with start to blur and fade and Patrick is all he can see, all he can think of. He can’t help but run his hand over his body and imagine doing the same to Patrick, and he involuntarily tightens his grip on his own cock as he thinks about Patrick touching him too. When everything else falls away and he thinks of Patrick, flushed and aroused and fucking gorgeous, and the way Patrick felt against him, he comes hard, trying to stifle a long groan.

He showers afterwards and he stares at Patrick’s door as he passes, willing himself to do one of two things; cowboy the fuck up and go talk to Patrick about how their stupid experiment has caused him to have inappropriate feelings, or just bottle it up long enough that he can get through the next few weeks.

He wishes for the former. He settles on the latter.

*

It takes a little longer for it to sink in for Patrick.

The first thing that gives him an inkling is something that’s happened a hundred times and he's thought nothing of, but Pete borrows his hoody. It's a big, navy blue, non-descript hoody that means nothing to Patrick at all so he doesn't care and he doesn’t miss it when he sees Pete take it with him. But when Patrick gets it back, when Pete's finished with it, it smells of him. And it's not that it smells amazing, or terrible, or weird, it just smells of _Pete_ ; his stupid Nightmare Before Christmas cologne he's too old to be still wearing, his deodorant, his _skin_.

Pete's borrowed Patrick's clothes so many times in the past, and yet this time the smells make Patrick feel different. They send him straight back to when he and Pete ended up rubbing off on each other. He remembers the smell of Pete from that night; like the hoody mixed with the cologne, but muskier and with sweat added in, and he can't explain that either, but it smelled so fucking hot.

That night came out of nowhere, and even if Patrick made a lame-o excuse about their pretending spilling into reality, he’s now not sure if that’s what it was.

The next thing that Patrick notices is those little crinkles around Pete's eyes that he gets when he's super smiley. Again, this is something that Patrick's aware of and he's seen them a zillion times before. It's something that struck Patrick when he met Pete first, when there was a moment that Pete laughed so hard that the crinkles appeared and Patrick felt so happy because of them. After that they just became part of Pete, just another thing that's part of Patrick's new friend so he never thought much more about them. But now they twist inside Patrick and he can't help but feel something close to butterflies in his stomach, all fluttering and flitting around.

Patrick notices other things too; Pete's skin when he wanders around wearing almost nothing after a shower - though he’s always done that, Pete's honking donkey-laugh when he's busting Frank's balls over something stupid, Pete's caring side when he looks after Mikey when he has the shittiest of shitty days. There's a lot of little things that Patrick notices about Pete and he suddenly likes them all, _really_ likes them.

Patrick also notices something tiny, and actually, Patrick _may_ have noticed this one before too, but he's always ignored it out of politeness.

Pete's room is right next to Patrick's, and the walls are not paper thin, but they're not completely sound proof either. Sometimes Patrick can hear Pete playing music or puttering around, murmurs of him talking on the phone or watching something on his laptop.

Patrick also knows that there's a rogue bedspring in Pete's bed, one that squeaks when Pete's tossing and turning, unable to sleep. It's a spring that also squeaks rhythmically if Pete has _company_ , and that's definitely something that Patrick tries to ignore. It squeaks rhythmically when Pete does not have company too, and lately that’s been happening a lot.

So tonight, Patrick's lying on his bed, and he's very into the book that he's reading. Though when he hears that squeak, that repeated squeak coming through the walls from Pete's room, Patrick can no longer take in a single word.

He can't concentrate because as the seconds tick by and that squeaky spring keeps crying out, slowly at first and gradually getting faster, Patrick starts to get more and more turned on. He knows it’s obviously Pete jacking off, and after they fucked on the couch, after Patrick saw what Pete’s face looks like when he comes, he can’t not think about it. It's just a little spark at first, just a teeny, tiny ember of heat in his stomach, but it begins to grow as Patrick imagines what Pete might be doing just on the other side of that wall.

Maybe Pete is all laid out on the bed, maybe trailing one hand over his body as he jacks himself with the other. Maybe Pete’s hard really fast, going heavy on himself straight off the bat, or maybe he teases himself slowly, so slowly until he’s panting and writhing in pleasure. On his bed. Right on the other side of that wall. _Fuck._

Patrick’s so turned on, and he still hasn’t even touched himself, hasn’t let himself. He feels like he might be about to explode from his pent-up horniness if he doesn’t do _something_ when suddenly those little squeaks of Pete’s mattress stop completely, and it’s accompanied by a muffled groan. A wave of heat runs through Patrick’s whole body, because he knows what that means.

Patrick’s room is silent but for his laboured breathing, and he’s scared to move a single muscle as he listens carefully to some movement from Pete’s room.

Once Patrick hears the bathroom door shut and the shower running, and he’s sure that Pete is no longer next door, he's got his hand down his sweatpants so fast it's probably a world record. The instant he gets his hand around his cock he has to bite down on his lip to stop from crying out. It's so fucking good, such a relief.

He thinks about Pete again, all stretched out, maybe with his pants pushed down and his shirt pulled up so he's bared to his empty room, but Patrick thinks he’s likely to be the kind of guy who jerks off naked. Patrick's hand moves faster as he thinks of all that gorgeous gold skin on show, he can’t help it.

He thinks of how Pete's stomach muscles might flex as he gets closer, how his thighs might tense up. He thinks of how his hair was probably messed to hell and, how Pete’s mouth was probably wet and slack as he panted through his orgasm, just like he did the other night.

He wonders how Pete pleasures himself. Does he just jerk off? Does he finger himself? Does he have a dildo that he likes to play with? Does he watch porn when he fucks up into his own hand? What does he think about - does Pete think about their moment on the couch together?

There's a hundred dirty, delicious possibilities that flash through Patrick's mind and his head is swimming, so goddamn turned on.

His hand feels so good but he wonders what Pete’s hand might feel on him, around his cock. They might have rubbed off on each other, and it was hot as hell, but Patrick missed out on seeing Pete undressed, missed out on feeling Pete's naked body wrapped around his. He feels a little hard done by because he's certain he won't get a do-over, but he pushes that down and tries to remember the two things he got; Pete's mouth on his and Pete's hard-on rubbing off against him.

He thinks about what Pete said in their relationship session, about Patrick liking his nipples played with. Patrick fucking loves it, and he rubs his free hand over his chest and pinches his nipples through his shirt. He thinks of Pete playing with them, teasing his fingers over the sensitive skin until it peaks, biting a nipple gently until it hardens in Pete’s mouth. He bites back a strangled moan, unable to let himself be loud in case he’s overheard.

Patrick's so fucking close, and thinks of the second that he heard the squeaky mattress cut to silence and how that must have meant that Pete came all over himself, and he comes too, arching his hips off his bed.

He feels wretched afterwards. That moment of post-orgasm sadness might be thought of as a _Petit Mort_ , a little death, but right now Patrick feels more than a little like he’s dying inside.

He cleans himself up using tissues, not wanting to venture outside his room for a wet cloth or a shower in case he runs into Pete.

He falls asleep hours and hours later wondering how this happened and how he’s going to continue pretending to be in love with Pete when he’s now sure he’s falling in love for real.

 

*

Pete hits the gym like he's been doing quite a lot lately. It's a fairly productive way to burn off excess energy and frustration, and it beats jacking off repeatedly - something he’s also been doing a lot of recently.

He’s done as much cardio as he can - a thirty minute run and another thirty minutes on the Stairmaster thing that makes his butt cheeks and thighs burn, so it must be good - and he’s now in the weights section.

He more or less knows what he’s doing here, but he’s full of adrenaline and too ambitious with what he can bench press. He loads up the barbell and gets into position on the bench.

It's heavy, too heavy, and on his third rep he lifts the barbell and feels the fatigue rising in his arms. He manages another shaky rep, completely regretting that last set of plates he’d loaded onto the bar. He pushes the barbell up, and shit. It’s now far too heavy for his arms to take, and he can’t seem to make get it all the way back up to rest it again. He pushes harder, his muscles failing him, and he has to rest it on his chest, but it’s _far_ too heavy for that and he feels like he might be crushing his rib cage.

He tries to catch the attention of the gym worker, though someone being buried under a barbell should be enough to attract anyone’s attention, right? He tries once more to gather his strength and push up wards again, but Jesus, what was he thinking adding extra weights today?

“Hey, whoa!” a voice says from somewhere behind Pete’s head. “Let me get that for you.”

A pair of strong hands grip the barbell and lift it easily from Pete’s hands, and Pete would feel even a little embarrassed if he wasn’t so glad he’s no longer about to die.

The guy stands over Pete looking right down at him, eyes twinkling. “Thanks,” Pete says, very aware of the fact that this guy’s crotch is very close to his face, so he decides to sit up because maybe that’s less weird. The guy is -- actually pretty fucking hot. He’s clearly a regular gym goer, with broad shoulders and perfectly sculpted arms, and he’s got a boy-next-door look about him with sandy hair and sparkling blue eyes. “Thanks,” Pete says again. “You’ve saved me from both public humiliation and crushing myself to death with a barbell.”

“Don’t worry about it, man. We’ve all had days where we try to lift just that little bit too much.”

Pete eyes the guy’s biceps and makes a disbelieving sound without meaning too. He can’t imagine this dude has much trouble lifting _anything_. He looks like fucking Captain America, and Pete suspects he could pick up entire weights machines rather than just the weights. He doesn’t say as much though, just turns his little sound into a laugh and the guy laughs too.

“I’ve seen you a lot here recently,” the guy says.

“Yeah, lifting things is a good way to burn off my frustrations.” Though Pete is surprised that this guy has noticed Pete. Pete hasn’t noticed anything except his iPod any time he’s been here.

“I hear that. Have you much of your workout left to do?”

“I think after nearly killing myself I might be about done for today.”

“I’ve a couple more reps to do over here and then a cool down.” The guy hesitates, and he looks shy and adorable as he says, “Would you maybe want to grab a drink or something afterwards?”

Pete laughs. “You mean go drink alcohol after a hard workout? Feels like that’s defeating the purpose!” But as he watches this really good looking guy who seems sweet and kind, his mind jumps quickly to the fact that going home will mean spending the night watching television with Patrick and beating himself up, not even able to enjoy Patrick’s company. He says, “Sure. Maybe we should make it a cocktail so at least we can tell ourselves it’s healthy because there’s juice in there?” before he can stop himself, hoping that a drink with a pretty stranger might means that he’s distracted at the very least.

The smile that Pete receives is dazzling. “I’m Steve, by the way,” the guy says, and Pete can’t help but smile that this dude who looks like Captain America’s fitter, buffer twin should actually be named Steve. While Pete is wondering if this guy’s surname might be Rogers, Steve re-racks Pete’s weights for him, which is incredibly polite.

“Pete.”

They arrange to meet in the lobby after, and Pete rushes through his shower, not wanting to be in the locker room when Steve finishes his workout because of the whole possible-accidental-nudity-before-they-even-have-a-drink thing.

There’s a little cocktail bar down the street and it’s kind of perfect. It’s not that fancy sort of cocktail bar, but not the sort that serves pitchers of margaritas for five dollars on a Tuesday at lunch time, either. Basically, it’s nice but casual enough that they don’t look out of place with gym bags.

It’s surprisingly easy for Pete to get caught up in chatting with Steve, easy to get along with him, easy to forget his troubles. There’s some definite flirting going on, including a joke bicep measuring contest, which is really just an excuse for Pete to touch Steve’s arms. Pete’s really enjoying himself. It’s only when Steve, after a devastating smile, places his hand over Pete’s and leans in and kisses him that Pete comes back to himself.

The kiss is sweet, and Steve is a _very_ good kisser, but as his lips press against Pete’s, all Pete can think of is that the last person his kissed was Patrick. Pete tries to block that out, because this not-quite-a-date is supposed to be about forgetting Patrick, but when Steve pulls back from the embrace and looks into Pete’s eyes, all Pete can think is that this guy’s eyes are exactly the same shade of blue as Patrick’s.

Steve looks like he’s about the lean in again, and Pete instinctively moves backwards, away from any further potential kissing.

“Was that not okay? Did I do something wrong?” Steve asks, looking rather like a bulked-up, hurt puppy.

“It’s not that. I’m sorry. I just. You’re really nice, and you’re really hot, but like-“

“You’re not interested.”

“I really thought I was.”

“So, you don’t want to continue the date?” And there’s still a hopefulness there that pulls on Pete’s heart. 

“I’m really enjoying your company, but I don’t want to waste your time.”

“You’re not wasting my time, Pete,” Steve insists. “Seriously. But you don’t have to do this if you don’t want. It’s just a drink, just a kiss.”

“I know,” Pete says, and the fact that Steve is being so gracious about this makes Pete feels worse in a way. “I’m not sure I can do any sort of feelings or romance with anyone at the moment.” He closes his eyes wondering why he’s about to tell Steve everything, but then he does it anyway. “ _God_ , I’ve fallen in love with someone that I’ve known forever, and I’m just a friend to him, so I’m doomed to be miserable.”

“Shit. That sucks hard.” And to his credit, Steve actually sounds concerned. “Want to talk about it?”

This guy is clearly too good to be true, and though Pete could do with talking this out, he shakes his head. There’s no need for Pete’s sombre mood to take down this chipper, adorable gym bunny too.

“Look, if you change you mind, call me okay? It doesn’t have to be a date. If you wanna work out, or talk or anything, maybe we could hang out.” Steve bends down to his gym bag to pull out a pen from the pocket and Pete tries not to look at the inch of Steve’s Calvins that appear when his shirt rides up. Even if Pete is saying no, this dude is in some serious shape, and he’s incredibly hot. Pete should win the Nobel Prize for Stupidity for saying no. 

There’s a glint in Steve’s eye after a second after he passes Pete a scrawled-on napkin that changes the game a little. “If you’re not up for romance, maybe you’d be for a, uh, personal training one-on-one?” The way Steve says it is so suggestive, and Pete laughs shyly knowing _exactly_ what is being offered. Considering how fit and flexible Steve seems, Pete assumes that his evening could be a whole lot of fun if they hooked up. But once again he thinks of Patrick and he shakes his head.

“I really am sorry. In another universe I’d be so up for climbing you like a tree,” he laughs. But he owes himself the opportunity to say yes if he comes to his senses, so he says, “I’ll think about it, though. Thanks.”

Pete chances another squeeze to Steve’s bicep and gives him an appreciative smile, wishing tonight could be different. Pete could really do with getting laid, but seeing as that kiss made him feel nothing, and seeing as Steve is a nice person who doesn’t deserve to be used, it’s a no-go.

Steve pecks him on the cheek as they part, and Pete heads in the direction of home, both looking forward to seeing Patrick and dreading it in equal parts. He decides to do what he’s done best for the last while, which is to slap on a fake smile, pretend nothing is wrong, and just get on with it.

 

*

“Where you been?” Patrick asks. He’s at the kitchen table with his laptop out. The television is on in the living room but he hasn’t heard a word of what’s going on.

“Hey,” Pete calls from the hall. There’s the sound of him dumping his stuff and then he stands at the kitchen door. He’s in his post-gym gear, but he looks far from relaxed and full of endorphins like he usually does. He looks kind of tense and sad. “The gym. What’s up? You wanna get dinner?”

“I’ve eaten,” Patrick says. He tries to keep his annoyance out of his voice. Patrick’s eaten. He cooked when he got home, and made extra like he often does, expecting Pete to be home at his usual time. “The gym ran late?”

“Kinda, I guess,” Pete says, and he doesn’t meet Patrick’s eye. “What did you eat? I’m in the mood for carbs, lots and lots of carbs. Maybe a carb sandwich.” He sounds distracted and he begins a circuit of the kitchen, opening and closing cupboard doors looking for something he can’t find.

“I had pasta,” Patrick says. “There’s leftovers.” _I made it for you but you weren’t here._

“Thanks, man,” Pete says. Pete putters around and in the end settles on stuffing half a slice of bread into his mouth instead of going for the leftover pasta. When he sits down next to Patrick, he’s close enough for Patrick to smell, and instead of getting a whiff of shower gel and clean laundry - the way Pete usually smells after the gym - he smells of sugar and alcohol instead.

“Dude, were you drinking?”

Pete looks a little shifty again. “”Yeah. I, uh. I had a drink or two after the gym.”

Patrick tries not to overthink things but there’s something in his stomach, twisting and swirling. “With who?” he asks, and he hates how much is sounds like an accusation rather than a simple question.

“Just this guy. A guy from the gym. We had cocktails.” Pete fishes in his pocket and pulls out a crumped up napkin with a telephone number on it, and Patrick sort of hates that stupid piece of paper.

“Oh, yeah?” Patrick says, because he has nothing to say that won’t sound like an accusation even if Pete has done nothing wrong.

“Yeah. He was, like, this beefed up Captain America dude.”

“So it was a date?”

“I guess,” Pete shrugs. 

“So you’re going to see him again?” Patrick all but grits out.

“Well, we go to the same gym, so I guess so. Maybe. I don’t know. I got his number! He’s a cool guy. I told him I’m not sure I’m in interested, but he seemed to take it well. So, at least I haven’t fucked it up and he won’t end up blanking me at the squat rack.”

And how did Patrick forget this? While he’s been daydreaming all week about Pete with his gorgeous smile and long eyelashes and ability to light up a room, he’s somehow forgotten that Pete can have almost anyone he wants, and Patrick has little or no chance with him. Guys that look like fucking _Captain America_ ask Pete out, so there’s no way that Pete would be interested in someone as ordinary as Patrick. It’s not even like Patrick thinks ill of himself, he’s just not in the same league and he knows it.

Pete’s comment also gets Patrick thinking about other things. His mind skips through Pete’s last relationship, the one before that, and the one before that, too. 

Pete has such a strong personality and goes headfirst into things, including his relationships. Add to that how pigheaded he can be and his tendencies to catastrophize, and Pete’s break-ups have ended up in various shades of fucked up with so much heartache that Pete does not speak with any of his exes.

As much as Patrick loves Pete in so many ways, as much as he wants to persue something with him after developing such unexpected feelings for him, Patrick is afraid. 

He’s not afraid of loving Pete, but afraid of loving Pete and losing him, afraid that all of the things that have happened in Pete’s previous relationships and breakups will come true again. They could lose not just a romantic relationship, but _everything_. 

Patrick feels conflicted and frustrated and overwhelmed, and he really needs to get out of this room and away from Pete who’s watching him with deep brown eyes.

Patrick claps his laptop shut. “I’m going to bed,” he says and it comes out like he’s snapped it, even if he doesn’t mean to. This is his problem and he shouldn’t be taking it out on Pete.

“What the- are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Patrick manages. He just wants to leave and go mope in his room.

“Seriously. Did you have a bad day?”

“Nope. Just need to go to bed.”

“Dude, it’s like, nine-thirty. Come hang out with me and I can tell you how insane this guy’s biceps are? Just come hang out.”

Patrick sighs, frustrated, desperate to leave the room now. “Pete, just drop it.”

“Are you okay?”

“No,” Patrick says, and he knows he shouldn’t say anything more.

“Wanna tell me about it.”

“No,” Patrick says. There’s a dull panic rising in his stomach, just a millimetre at a time, but it’s enough that he needs to leave the kitchen, and he’s starting to not care if it’s to his bedroom or out of the apartment.

“C’mon, you can talk to me.”

“Not about this.”

“Why not.”

“Pete, for fuck sake, just-”

“What?” Pete’s up from his seat and across the kitchen now. His face is full of concern and Patrick can’t stand it. “What is it? What’s wrong? What’s cutting you up, Patrick? Is it a person, because I’ll fucking throw a kettlebell at them.”

On another day, Patrick would laugh at Pete’s enthusiasm to protect him, but not today. “No-”

“Then what?”

“It’s you, okay? It’s you.” And once it’s out there, Patrick can’t think of any way to spin it that will make it sound less awful. He feels so overwhelmed, and he wants to sit down but he’d have to get by Pete to get to a chair.

“Me?”

“Yes,” Patrick hisses. “You and this fucking survey! It’s just, I don’t think I can keep doing it. Even if we have just two weeks left.” He shouts it, rather than says it, and when he realises, he lowers his voice to say, “it’s making me think things, feel things.”

Pete’s face changes from concern to freakish curiosity. “Like what?”

“Like we’ve been spending weeks acting like we’re a couple and it’s hard to separate it out sometimes.”

“Wait, separate what?”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Patrick’s desire to get out of here hasn’t lessened, but the overwhelming panic has. He just wants to be alone to process this, and possibly to cry.

“You mean that pretending to have feelings has made you have feelings?” Pete asks looking a little frantic. But it’s not a scared or angry sort of frantic like Patrick might have suspected. It’s - he looks happy.

“Yeah,” Patrick says slowly. 

Pete laughs his stupid donkey laugh, and Patrick just stares at him open mouthed. He’s missing something and he needs to know what. “Pete?”

“Why don’t we sit down,” he says, cool and ridiculously calm, for Pete, at least. He still looks happy, his smile making those gorgeous crinkles around his deep brown eyes.

Pete heads into the living room and Patrick can’t help but follow him even if this would be a perfect opportunity to run the fuck away.

“So,” Pete starts, when they’re settled on the sofa, “I understand what you mean about that survey making you think things.”

Patrick’s still staring, but he manages to say, “You do?”

“I get it. We’ve been going through a lot these past weeks, huh?” Patrick takes in Pete’s posture and his expression; he’s bent forward but not slumped in on himself, so he’s not tense or hiding anything, and his expression is still verging on happy. But from Pete’s words, Patrick concludes that this is Pete’s way of letting him down easily. The not-so-easy way would involve a decade of teasing, but who knows - that could be still to come.

Patrick ignores the disappointment pooling in his stomach and decides it’s better this way. This way they can’t crash and burn and end up hating each other. This way they can just get past everything and move on. Maybe Patrick will spend his thousand dollars on a vacation after all - just one that’s far away from Pete so that he can get some headspace and get everything back to the way it was.

But then Pete takes a big deep breath and looks like he’s steadying himself. His posture changes again and he turns bodily towards Patrick. His hand hovers over Patrick’s on the couch but he pulls it away instead of touching it to Patrick’s.

“I get it,” he says quietly, cautiously. “I completely get it. Pretending to be in love with you has been both amazing and harder that I thought. I thought it would just be a fun way to get some cash, but I’ve seen a different side of you. I thought it would stay pretend. I get what you mean because I’ve been feeling it too. I’ve been freaking out the last couple of weeks. Since we, uh,” he gestures to the couch they’re sitting on to demonstrate what he means, but it’s not like Patrick needs any reminders. 

“Since that night,” Patrick says.

“Since that night,” Pete agrees. “And I really thought I was the only one feeling it. But if you feel it too…” 

He trails off, and before Patrick can register what’s really happening, his brain short circuits because Pete’s kissing him. It’s a soft, tentative kiss, close to their practice-kissing on the park bench, and _god_ Patrick could do this all night. He’s been thinking about it, remembering the kisses they shared, but the reality is so much better because Pete is right here, with his warm lips gently moving against Patrick’s, and then his mouth opens to let Patrick in. When Patrick slides his tongue in, it takes roughly five seconds of Pete’s hot mouth for him to remember himself and he pulls back.

“No,” he says, but he sounds nowhere near as resolute as he wants to. And if ending that kiss was hard, it’s nothing compared to the hell he feels when he sees the disappointment dawn on Pete’s face.

“No? But you just said-”

“I know what I said. I said that it got hard to separate out my feelings, that pretending to be in love with you is making me think about being in a relationship with you. But Pete, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Why not?” 

“Because this was supposed to be pretend. Just an experiment. Just a way to get extra cash.”

“And?” Pete says, wide-eyed. “Just because something starts off in one way doesn’t mean it has to end like that.”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea we try this, Pete?” Patrick says. He feels overwhelmed again, but he doesn’t want to run now. He wants to fall into Pete’s arms and never leave, but he’s so scared, he can’t do anything but stare.

“If we both feel the same, then yes I do. I’ve gotten to see another side of you these last weeks, Patrick. And I feel like an idiot for never seeing these things before, but fuck, I’m falling for you. Not the pretend version of you, but you. And I’ve been freaking out about this, about being a bad friend, because I feel like it’s almost a betrayal that I say I’m pretending when I’m not any more. So, yes. I do think we should try to do this.”

“Pete-” Patrick says. His brain is trying so hard to catch up but the little gears and cogs are not moving fast enough.

“Do you have feelings for me, Patrick?”

“It’s not that simple, Pete.” _I’m scared out of my mind that I’ll lose you._

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Then, come on,” Pete says, and this time he takes Patrick’s hand. Patrick wants so badly to curl his fingers around Pete’s and hold on, but he can’t - the fear rising in his chest won’t let him. He stands up and steps away, pulling his hand out of Pete’s grip.

“No, I can’t. This is. I can’t, Pete. I’m scared that this will all get fucked up.”

“I am too, but I think everything is worth the gamble. _You’re_ worth the gamble, Patrick. I think we can do this.”

Pete’s standing now, too, and he’s very close. He leans in again to kiss Patrick, but this time Patrick doesn’t let him, knowing he can’t indulge in kissing Pete if he doesn’t intend to let this go on. He places a hand on Pete’s chest and pushes him back, maybe a little harder than he’d planned.

 

*

Pete’s still reeling from Patrick’s rejection, and the spot of his chest that Patrick pushed against feels hot like a brand. That’s the exact moment that Mikey and Frank choose to come home, barrelling in the door with a pizza box. They seem to be in the middle of some sort of conversation about Star Wars - as ever - but conversation cuts off mid-sentence when they catch sight of the scene of the living room.

“Is everything okay?” Mikey asks slowly. He meets Pete’s gaze and Pete tries to psychically convey to Mikey to leave without questioning anything.

“Can you give us some space?” Pete asks. _Please?_

“We were just gonna eat our pizza,” Mikey says.

“Vegan pizza,” Frank corrects. “You can join us?”

That’s really not going to happen. There’s no way that Pete can sit around and make polite conversation after what just went down. He’s been pretending for a long time, but he can’t do it tonight. He needs to sort this out with Patrick and at least try to figure out what’s going on.

“No, guys. You’re no longer having pizza.” Pete digs his wallet out of his pocket and pulls out his credit card. “You’re now going out for dinner. On me. Please.”

Frank just stares, but Pete knows Mikey knows him well enough to pick up on the unease, on the discomfort, on the pleading in Pete’s voice.

“If you’re sure?” Mikey says, and Pete knows Mikey’s also asking if Pete is okay in that question.

“I’m sure, Mikey. Please give us some space.”

Mikey gets it, and Pete breathes half a sigh of relief when the door shuts behind them, but it’s short lived, because as soon as the door is closed, he still has this Patrick Situation to think about and it’s mind boggling.

“Can we sit down again?” he asks, and Patrick nods. “Tell me why we can’t do this? Why we can’t try?”

Patrick takes a long minute to speak again, and when he does there’s such sadness in his eyes. 

“Because we can’t,” he says simply. “I don’t think we should.” 

“But you said-“

“Forget what I said!”

“Why?”

“Because you and I are too different!”

“We’re not that different, Patrick. We have a shit ton in common and you fucking know that. We wouldn’t have lasted this long as friends if we didn’t have stuff in common.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what? I don’t fucking understand. You said you like me, and I just told you I’m _falling in love with you,_ which is the hardest thing. He looks down at the floor, unable to look Patrick in the eye because this is exactly what he’d feared by baring his heart. “Which you’re doing anyway,” he says sadly.

“Fuck, Pete. That’s not fair. Don’t make me the bad guy in this.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Pete says, raising his voice. He’s getting all wound up, and he’s getting mad rather than trying to understand why Patrick’s saying the things he’s saying. This is too hard.

Patrick’s face is twisted up and Pete can see when he mentally snaps. “You know what? Have a look at your last relationships, Pete. Really have a look at them and then tell me that we should try to be together.”

If Pete was asked, he’d be able to pinpoint the exact second that his heart ripped in two, because that’s the single cruellest thing that Patrick’s ever said to him. Pete knows he has a shitty track record with relationships. Some were down to his mental health, some were down to youth and inexperience with dealing with strong feelings, and some were just down to being with the wrong person but being too obtuse to admit it. He never thought that Patrick would be the one to use them against him. 

But if that’s why he doesn’t want to be with Pete, then there really isn’t anything he can say to change his mind. It doesn’t mean that Pete isn’t fucking furious, though, because it hurts like hell.

“Fuck you, Patrick.” His hands are by his side and he has to ball them into fists to stop himself tearing at his own skin. He feels panicked and overwhelmingly sad that this is happening. He struggles to contain his anger and he takes a step backwards away from Patrick.

“Pete, I didn’t-“ Pete notes Patrick’s face; he looks panicked too, but it’s too late. Pete’s heart is crumbling to nothing in his chest.

“Just fuck you.”

Pete doesn’t even look at Patrick again, can’t stand to hear what he might respond with. He manages to grab his keys and his hoody and then slams the door on his way out, hard enough to give himself a fright.

He manages to make it all the way into the elevator before he starts to cry.

*

Pete doesn’t go home that night. He can’t bring himself to.

He texts Mikey to say as much, so that at least someone will know where he is, and just shows up on Travie’s doorstep.

“Jesus, Pete. You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” Pete manages, and it’s friendly banter. From Travie’s tone he knows he’s just playing around, even if there’s concern in there too. “Can I sleep on your couch tonight please? It’s that or at my desk at work.”

Travie looks very confused, but he also seems to get it. “Come in. You can’t sleep on my couch, it’s not comfortable. I’ve a spare room, my roommate is away. He won’t mind.” Pete manages a smile, so grateful. “Come in. You really do look like shit.”

When they’re inside and Travie has fixed them drinks, Pete leaves the silence to settle before he speaks again. 

“Thanks for letting me stay, man.”

“Don’t mention it. You gonna tell me why you’re camping at my house?”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Try.”

Pete sighs and starts into his story, from his stupid initial naive idea, to the fake kissing, to fucking on the couch, to realising his feelings. He finishes with the argument and how he’d bared his feelings to Patrick and how Patrick had just shut him down. 

“Okay, I’m understanding a little more why you don’t want to go home. Do you think you can work it out?”

“Could you? I mean, maybe we can be friends again in time, but at the moment it’s so fucked up. I don’t think I can even look at him. He was so cruel.”

“That’s messed up. You two were always so close. I hope you can figure it out, either as friends or as anything else,” Travie says. He puts his hand on Pete’s knee in a reassuring gesture. “You can stay this whole week if you need to. But you know I’m heading back to New York next month, right? I won’t be around then.” Travie looks thoughtful for a second. “But if you need somewhere to get away to, you can always come visit and sleep on my couch there?”

“I don’t want to run away.” But Pete considers it. He hadn’t planned on leaving LA, but then again he never planned on leaving Chicago all those years ago. Maybe a change of scene could be okay, even a temporary one, but he’s not going to make such a big decision today when he’s hurting so much. All he wants is a hug and a nap and for someone to tell him things will work out okay.

But then Travie’s always been good at comforting Pete. “Can I have a hug, McCoy?”

“Of course, Wentz.” And then Travie pulls him in for a long, tight hug and Pete feels like crying all over again. 

“Can you please tell me everything will be okay? Even if it’s a lie,” he says into Travie’s shoulder, inhaling his laundry detergent in the process. 

“It will all be fine, baby boy,” Travie soothes. “Might take some time, but it will. And I ain’t even lying. You’ll see.”

“Thanks,” Pete sniffs.

“Want to blow shit up with me? _Call of Duty_ is good for broken hearts. That, junk food and a little weed if you’re up for it.”

Pete manages a weak smile. He’s thankful he has such a good friend, thankful for the distraction at least.

* 

Patrick spends the week in hell, turning their last, heated conversation over and over again in his head. His heart breaks when Pete walks out on him, but he can’t really blame Pete for being upset or needing to get away.

Patrick cries his eyes out and beats himself up for the rest of the night and hides in his room when he hears Mikey and Frank return. They know what happened though, and Mikey comes to knock on his door, only eventually leaving when Patrick promises he’s okay and will talk to them about it tomorrow when he’s feeling up to it.

He hears Pete come home the next evening, but he doesn’t hang around, spending half an hour in his room and then leaving again. Patrick yearns to hear the dull murmurs of Pete’s laptop as he watches Netflix in bed or his wall-muffled voice as he shoots the shit on his phone. 

Patrick texts Pete but receives no response. Though he doesn’t text anything that requires an answer, just _We should talk_ , and _Please come home_. 

Pete comes home again two days later, but it seems to be just to pick stuff up. Patrick’s on the couch when Pete lets himself in. He stupidly thinks that now that Pete’s here they’ll have to talk, to clear the air.

Pete barely makes eye contact with Patrick, and when he does there’s a furrow in his brow and he looks tired.

“Hey,” Patrick tries.

Pete mumbles a reply, but then says clearly, “I’m just picking up some things.”

Patrick wants to ask how Pete is, but he can see clearly that Pete’s not doing too well. He wants to ask where he’s staying but he knows that he’s with Travie. He wants to ask something, anything that might open up the dialogue. But while Patrick’s turning himself inside out trying to think of something to say, time goes too quickly and then Pete’s gone again, letting himself out without saying goodbye.

It’s heartbreaking.

Patrick doesn’t really expect Pete to show up for their research session that Thursday. They’ve barely spoken, so to pretend to be a happy couple would be asking a lot. He has a big excuse planned that Pete’s sick and has to stay in bed under doctor’s orders, but he has no idea if he should try to reschedule or give up on this entirely.

But when Patrick walks into reception ten minutes early, Pete is already there. He doesn’t look good. He has a huge hoody on which swamps his frame and makes him look small and fragile. The dark circles under his eyes don’t help, and his hair is lacking that certain artfully-styled look he does so well, which means Pete cares less about how he looks than usual. It’s worrying and Patrick’s stomach lurches.

He just about meets Patrick’s gaze, and it’s not a smile he gives Patrick; more a grimace. It twists Patrick deep inside that Pete can’t even smile at him, though really, why would he?

That fight was awful, and Patrick was vicious, his desperation making him say the wrong words and he knows he’s deeply hurt Pete. Pete has every right to be mad, to be furious at Patrick. Patrick would feel the same if his insecurities were used against him. Patrick’s never been so cruel in all his life, and he didn’t even mean to be.

He told Pete they couldn’t be together because of Pete’s relationships and how awfully they all ended, and that is what he meant to say. Sort of. Pete’s relationships in the past have had a certain way of exploding, causing mass destruction and broken hearts all around when they do.

But it’s not that Patrick wouldn’t date Pete because of his relationship history, it’s fear that if it ended and ended badly, their relationship, their friendship that started everything, would explode too, and he would lose Pete forever. Patrick can’t handle even the thought of that, though now the reality is that he’s hurt Pete enough that their friendship might be ruined regardless.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” Patrick says, breaking the silence and hoping it doesn’t get worse.

“I nearly didn’t come. Travie said I should. We only have this week and next week left to finish so I may as well complete it and get my money,” Pete says. He barely looks up, just a glance as he says. “I need the cash so I can get away for a bit.”

Patrick feels a wave of vague nausea. “What do you mean? The vacation you mentioned?”

“Not really,” Pete says sadly. “Trav is heading back to New York for a bit and he said I can stay if I want.”

“For a visit?”

“For longer.”

Patrick feels another wave of nausea, bigger this time. “What about work?”

“I’m a writer, I can work wherever. The magazine won’t care, and if they do, there’s tons more magazines in New York.”

 _What about me?_ “I see.” He doesn’t ask about the apartment because no one is going to stick around for the sake of renting a shitty apartment with frequently broken heating. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“It’s not for certain yet. I just --” Pete cuts himself off, looking at Patrick sadly, his eyes full of something that Patrick can’t translate. “I just thought it could be an option after--” Pete doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Victoria arrives at the door to the session room and beckons them in.

“So, as you probably saw from the schedule, this week is about your future, your relationship goals, where you’re hoping to end up together.”

Patrick would like to bang his head off the nearest wall because how could he have forgotten that this session was this week? How could they possibly have a more ironic thing to talk about considering that he and Pete might not even have a future as friends at this point?

“So, Pete. If we could start with you? Can you give us some details on what you’d like in terms of your future with Patrick? You know, marriage, children, that sort of stuff.”

Pete talks a long moment to answer. He’s not holding Patrick’s hand this week, just sitting hunched over with his hands in his hoody pockets. “I just want a future with someone who has the same outlook as me,” he says simply. “I can compromise on most things. I don’t give a shit if I don’t get a ring on my finger, or if we try to have our own kids or adopt. A solid future is the only important thing. And if there’s no future, then everything else is meaningless.”

Patrick feels weak. Pete hasn’t looked at him once yet, but Patrick knows that Pete is not acting when he says these words.

“I’m not great at relationships, never was, but I think I’ve learned something new from each one I’ve fucked up. I just wanted to make Patrick happy, but-”

“Pete-” Patrick doesn’t even know what he wants to say. To hear him so sad is heart wrenching. To know that this is something that could be fixed is worse. But Patrick’s so fucking scared that he could lose Pete forever that his voice gets caught in his throat.

“Is everything okay between you two?” Victoria asks, glancing from one to the other and back again.

“Yeah,” Gabe says. “If there’s something that you’d like to bring up then please do. We had earmarked this session as one to discuss your future, but if there’s something going on in your lives now that you need to discuss then please go ahead.”

Pete looks over at Patrick and in the mere seconds that they lock eyes, Patrick can see a multitude. Patrick doesn’t want to give away that this has been a big lie from the start, but he doesn’t know how to continue on with the session without saying something.

“Patrick and I had a fight,” Pete says, saving Patrick, but Patrick still doesn’t feel any better about any of it, and he’s no idea how to improvise details of a fight. “A fucking bad one.”

“Can you tell us about it?” Gabe says.

Pete says nothing. Maybe he’s trying to think about how to describe the fight without giving everything away like Patrick is, or maybe he’s remembering Patrick’s vicious words. Maybe he’s just going to sit in silence and let Patrick squirm and think of something himself until he cracks. Patrick doesn’t know, so in the spirit of improvisation, he speaks before Pete can.

“Pete’s possibly going to New York for a bit. For Work. I don’t want him to go.” It’s not even a lie. Even if that’s not what their argument was about, it’s true enough that Patrick’s voice wavers, and Pete turns his head to lock eyes with him again.

“This came up in a previous session,” Victoria says. She rifles through her notebook, flicking the pages back through endless handwritten notes until she finds something. She underlines some words with her pen and then taps the page. “Here. When we spoke about the hypothetical idea of one of you having to move away, if you were to have to deal with a long-distance relationship, you both agreed that it wouldn’t be a deal breaker.”

“Reality is harder to deal with that the hypothetical,” Pete snaps.

“Of course it is,” Gabe says. “So can you explain what happened?”

“I don’t really want to go into details,” Pete says sullenly. “But I’m probably going to New York for a bit, and I don’t know if Patrick and I--”

“I don’t want you to go. Please don’t go,” Patrick pleads. It’s breaking character, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He didn’t get to talk to Pete before the session and he doesn’t think that Pete will listen when they finish up here. This might be his only chance to speak to Pete at all, and he sighs internally because he’s going to have to do it in code so that they don’t get rumbled.

“Why should I stay?”

“Because I’ll miss you so bad that I can’t even think about it. I can’t imagine not seeing you every day.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have--” Pete cuts himself, obviously aware that he’s about to divulge their secret too. “Maybe you shouldn’t have said I should apply for that job.”

Patrick only takes half a second to understand what Pete is trying to say. “I didn’t mean what I said. It came out wrong. I just meant--“ 

“What?"

“I don’t know, Pete. I’m not good at this either. You said you’ve fucked up other relationships, well I haven’t had all that many to fuck up. The ones I had, burned out into nothing, and I’m scared of that too. I’m scared of losing you completely. You’re my best friend.”

Pete just stares at him like he’s searching for something. Patrick wishes he could communicate psychically today so that he wouldn’t have to say this bit out loud, but he can’t so he says, “Jesus, Pete. I love you, okay?”

There’s a moment of open surprise on Pete’s face, one that Patrick thinks is tinged with joy, but it doesn’t last. “Then why were you so fucking vicious? Why tear me apart and say something like--like how I performed in my other jobs would affect this one?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Not really.” Patrick has no idea how to explain this without giving everything away and he can see both Victoria and Gabe eyeing them closely, baffled by what’s going on. “I meant that because of your previous jobs and how they ended, I was afraid that you and I would end up not in each other’s lives and I can’t handle that. I can’t handle that idea at all.”

Gabe and Victoria have been silent, and it’s Gabe who speaks, clearly confused and rightly so. “I think we can cut this session a little short. It’s obvious you have a lot going on. We can pick it up next week and squeeze in a little extra into our last session?”

“Fine by me,” Pete says. He’s still not looking at Patrick. Patrick gives Gabe a tight lipped smile of apology as he gets up, and he has to speed up to catch Pete, who’s already heading for the door.

“Pete, wait.”

“I’m heading home.” Well, at least Patrick will know where to find him.

“Can we talk?”

“We just did,” Pete says. He still sounds sad, distant.

“No, we fucking didn’t,” Patrick snaps. “We spoke in code in front of strangers. We didn’t talk properly. Not just us as we are, we spoke as the people we’ve been pretending to be.”

“Go ahead then,” Pete says, though he doesn’t sound as pissed off as before.

“What I said was awful and I don’t blame you being mad at me. I deserve that. But most of your relationships have ended with you and whoever not speaking to each other, not even able to be in the same room. They were bad break-ups. And even if that’s not your fault, I’m so scared that we would crash and burn and I’d lose you from my life forever.”

“You don’t think I’m scared?” Pete spits.

“I don’t know. I didn’t-”

“You didn’t think about me in this, you just assumed the worst. Jesus, I thought my anxiety is bad,” he mutters.

“I’m sorry, Pete. I really am. I don’t know what else to say.” The ball of frustration that’s been knotting in Patrick’s stomach grows and grows, but he sighs, defeated. “Though maybe I’ve said enough. Maybe something I said in there might get through to you.” Pete slows a little, letting Patrick overtake him by a step, and Patrick’s not sure what to do now, but maybe it’s better they sort it out at home now instead of on the street.

But then Pete pulls him by the sleeve so that they end up tucked in against the side of a building. His eyes search Patrick’s face, and Patrick’s hoping even a fraction of what he’s said has soaked through, that Pete understands at least some of it. “Did you mean what you said?” Pete asks.

“Apart from the bits about your employment history,” Patrick says, and it’s meant to be a joke but only god knows why the hell he feels the need to make a joke right now considering so much is at stake.

“But you meant the rest? Or was it just for the session?”

“Yeah, I mean it,” Patrick says.

“I’m scared too. So scared. I don’t want to mess this up, Patrick,” he says, sounding almost desperate. “But I’m more scared of not taking a chance now.”

Pete takes a step forward, and in a flash he’s crowded Patrick in against the wall, and his hand is on Patrick’s jaw, kissing him. And _god_ , Patrick just lets himself sink into it so that his body’s pressed between Pete and the wall, his hands finding Pete’s waist even with that huge hoody to contend with. If he wasn’t holding on to Pete, Patrick is sure he’d float away because the kiss is incredible.

Pete pulls back enough that Patrick can see his smile, the crinkles around his eyes. Pete kisses him again and says, “I guess we both suck at this, then.”

Patrick’s still kiss-dazed and fuzzy headed so he just says, “Hmm?”

“Well, I have a shitty relationship history, but you suck so much at communication that you fucked this up as much as I would have.”

“I guess so,” Patrick says. He kisses Pete again and loses himself in it, forgets everything, all of his fears and insecurities. It’s all blanked out for just a second, but when Pete pulls back again rubs the tip of his nose against Patrick’s, that little worried voice inside Patrick speaks again. “I’m still afraid of what could happen. If we were together and it all went wrong, if we try and fail--I’m so scared of you not being in my life. How can we know that won’t happen? How-”

“We can’t. We can’t know. I don’t know that I won’t fuck this up. I don’t know if I’ll get jealous if you make friends with someone hot, I don’t know if my anxiety will drive a wedge between us, I don’t know if I really will have to go work in New York. We don’t know.” Pete cups Patrick’s jaw and tightens his other hand around Patrick’s waist. “I’m scared too.”

“But good scared?” Patrick asks, because that’s how he feels.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then.” Maybe this is a good thing. Patrick’s had a handful of relationships but he’s never felt like he had so much to lose, so maybe this means something more, something substantial, _life changing_.

He reaches for Pete’s hand and squeezes his fingers, earning a big grin from Pete in the process. They walk home hand in hand, butterflies swirling so hard in Patrick’s stomach he feels giddy.

*

Pete practically skips all the way home from the joy of holding Patrick’s hand. The evening is now the polar opposite to how it started. When he walked into the research building he was miserable, all hope of anything other than escape to New York gone. He wasn’t even sure if Patrick would show after those vicious words, and then everything happened in such a whirl of emotions, and now he has the prospect of something real with Patrick to consider.

When they get back home, Pete is still buzzing, his skin tingling, but Mikey and Frank are curled up on the smaller couch so it’s a very different atmosphere. Pete doesn’t think it’s appropriate to hold hands with Patrick or cuddle into him like he wants to. They haven’t done that yet, so it’s not right to begin it in front of people, even if it’s only roommates.

They get a smile and a nod from Frank and Mikey, and Pete knows that Mikey will corner him at some point to get the details on how Pete and Patrick started speaking again. Maybe by then Pete will be able to explain that not only is he speaking with Patrick, but they are very possibly an item now. Pete has no idea how to explain that one, but he smiles to himself at the thought.

Pete makes sure he sits beside Patrick on the couch though, watching X-Men and making small talk. And they’re sitting close together, but not close enough that their legs are touching. Pete’s not even sure how to act with his roommate sitting opposite them, but he has to constantly fight himself to keep his cool knowing too well that Patrick’s not into big public displays of affection. He purposely brushes his finger against Patrick’s every now and then, which is a small enough gesture that he can get away with it, and after countless shared goofy smiles, finally Mikey picks up on something.

“Frankie, you wanna go over and play Call of Duty in your place?” Mikey says. Pete’s sure he’s trying to be subtle, but he knows that Mikey is trying to give them some space and he’s so grateful.

“No, Mikes. Why would we do that? I thought we were sleeping here tonight?”

“But we could play Call of Duty at your place. We should do that?”

“Are you high? I’m comfortable here. No?”

Mikey sighs, and Pete hides a smile when Mikey catches his eye. “Frank, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second, then?”

“Why?” Frank asks, and doesn’t move.

“Seriously, Frankie. Just. For fuck sake, come to the kitchen for a second.”

Mikey has to practically drag Frank out of his seat, so any subtlety he might have been going for is completely gone. After a minute of Pete and Patrick grinning at each other, and Pete holding his breath with anticipation, Frank appears at the door to the living room again.

“We’re gonna take off. So…see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, guys,” Mikey grins.

Pete hears Frank shout, “Oh my god, you’re right!” at Mikey as the front door closes behind them, and then it’s just Patrick and Pete and X-Men on the TV.

“Mikey’s a little more astute than Frank, huh?”

“Frank’s oblivious to a lot of things,” Pete confirms. “But good for Mikes to notice. I was hoping one of them would. I tried to send Mikey psychic messages and I thought he could only do that with Gerard, but it worked!” He’s babbling, full of happy, nervous energy.

“That means we’re all alone,” Patrick says, and Pete’s stomach fills with renewed butterflies.

Pete turns himself to face Patrick, propping himself on an elbow against the couch back. He just stares at Patrick, watches the lines on his face, the twitch of his eyebrow, the curve of his lips as they curl into a smile. He’s watching Pete right back.

Pete decides that since they kissed on the couch before they should definitely do it again now. He leans over and kisses Patrick square on the lips, and this couch-kiss couldn’t be any more different to the last one. It’s slow and sweet and gorgeous, and Pete lets any nerves he has dissolve into the couch cushions. The desperate urgency isn’t there, but Pete’s still burning with desire as Patrick’s mouth moves against his.

After many long minutes of simple, wonderful kissing, Pete climbs into Patrick’s lap because there’s no place he’d rather be right now. He can’t bear to break the kiss, he just wants to get as close as possible, to feel the heat of Patrick’s body against his.

It's delicious, this slow make-out. Patrick laps his tongue into Pete’s mouth so slowly, his hands roam over Pete’s back and arms slowly too. As Pete licks against Patrick’s lips he realises that they’re tasting each other, trying each other out. They know so much about each other, and yet this is new ground to break. Any little moments they’ve had up until now have been rushed or fuelled by anger, and this is-- this is the exact opposite of all of those things.

When Patrick’s hand sneaks under Pete’s shirt and touches skin instead of fabric, Pete decides that now might be a good time to take some clothes off.

He sits back enough that there’s space between his bod and Patrick’s to pull his hoody over his head and though he’s lost a layer, he still feels so warm all over. He thinks about pulling off his t-shirt too, but the thought disappears into the shadows when Patrick’s warm hands land on his hips and slide up the inside of his shirt anyway.

“So, um,” Pete starts. “We didn’t take any clothes off the last time.”

“Nope.”

“But I still came in my pants like a teenager, and I’d rather not do that this time. I want to come,“ Pete hastens to clarify, just to make sure there’s no confusion, “just different. So, if you want to do this--do you want to do this?” Because maybe Pete’s jumping the gun entirely. Patrick said that he doesn’t sleep with people on a first date, but this isn’t really a date. Pete’s hoping with every cell of his body that Patrick wants this, though.

“Yes,” Patrick says, so resolutely that Pete can’t help but grin.

“Then can we do it properly?”

“My room?”

“Yes, please,” Pete says and climbs back out of Patrick’s lap. He lets himself be led down the hall to Patrick’s room, and he’s still wondering if this is real, when Patrick peels off his outer shirt and they sit on the edge of Patrick’s bed together.

“I’m kind of nervous,” Pete murmurs, because his nerves always make him say too much. But Patrick says, “Me too,” and Pete feels his nerves drain away. He kisses Patrick again and again, still soft and slow, but now Pete can feel more heat behind each one.

In the midst of their kissing, Pete loses his shirt, and then Patrick’s hands wander a little, skimming over Pete’s bare back and sides. Pete chances moving from kissing Patrick’s mouth to kissing Patrick’s jaw and then his neck, still slow and soft and sensual. He kisses down the hard line of Patrick’s throat and Patrick tips his head back, moaning softly. 

They wind up lying down, Pete half on top of Patrick, and that steps everything up a notch. Kissing and necking turns into heavy petting - very heavy petting.

Pete pushes Patrick’s shirt up and he gets his hands on Patrick’s tummy, his hips. They’re pressed together groin to groin, and even through two pairs of jeans it feels delicious when Pete bucks against Patrick, when Patrick presses back against him.

Patrick opens Pete’s jeans and then it doesn’t take much for him to slide his hands inside the back and push them down so that Pete’s ass is bared. Patrick’s hands move down and he squeezes just right, and _oh god_. Pete lets out a sound that he’d be embarrassed about if he was with anyone but Patrick, and he has to break the kiss.

With Patrick’s face in both hands he says, “Jesus, Patrick. Can we, like-- can I take the rest of your clothes off. Please?”

Patrick nods, like Pete hoped he would, and Pete sits back up to undress them both. He’s not particularly self-conscious when it comes to nudity, but he’s still glad he’s been taking his frustrations out in the gym lately when Patrick’s eyes are all over him.

Undressing Patrick is like wrapping a gift, and Pete’s dick throbs at each new patch of skin that’s unveiled. Patrick is gorgeous. Then there’s a long moment where they’re both just looking at each other, completely bare, fingertips trailing over skin to gently explore.

“Have you any idea how hot you are, Pete?”

Pete feels hot under Patrick’s gaze, so happy that Patrick said as much. “Thank you, but have you any idea how hot _you_ are, Patrick?” Patrick simpers, not answering the question and just blushing shyly. Pete says it again, though. “Seriously, you’re so fucking gorgeous. I’ve always thought that. I just didn’t know I did,” he says. He means it too. If he’d any idea he’d feel this way now, he wouldn’t have wasted all those years ignoring any tiny signposts that pointed this way.

Patrick’s body is amazing, and his dick is too. Pete leans all the way against Patrick so that they’re pressed together, and he pulls one leg up so that they’re skin to skin in as many places as possible. It’s _gorgeous_ to feel Patrick’s soft skin next to his like this, and Pete can’t help the sounds that come out of his mouth. Pete manages to line his dick up with Patrick’s, shaft to shaft, and hold both in his palm so that he can feel the pulse of Patrick’s blood. It’s an enormous feeling, one that he can’t quite contain, and his breath comes in stutters as he tries to process.

He kisses Patrick again and again, and the kisses are so hot and urgent, open mouths stretching to accommodate the deep swirls of tongue. Pete wants to climb right inside Patrick’s gorgeous mouth, get swallowed down and live inside Patrick forever. He wants to do everything with Patrick, and seeing as this seems to not be just a one-off like their couch escapade felt like, maybe he will.

Right now Pete is more than happy with the fact that he and Patrick and kissing and moving together, rubbing together, and he knows for sure he can get off with this, with Patrick all over him. 

He moves his hand away from their cocks and grabs at Patrick’s delicious thighs instead. Patrick seems to like this because he mewls into their kiss, so Pete pushes his hips forwards and grabs them again.

The fall into a rhythm; bucking and pushing their hips together and kisses that get faster and more desperate. Patrick feels rock hard against Pete’s hip, leaking and smearing precome on Pete’s skin, but Pete’s leaking too, and he loves how messy they’re going to end up.

“C’mon, Patrick. Come on. Come on me. I want to see you come,” he croons, and he wants nothing more right now. Patrick groans, on the same page as Pete, and they speed up again.

Their kisses become less composed, less focussed, and it’s more mouthing at skin than anything else. Pete shifts a little, slightly over Patrick, so that he can bury his face in Patrick’s neck and bite at the skin there, still touching Patrick’s body almost everywhere.

“Pete,” Patrick cries out, and Pete bites hard into Patrick’s tendons, just where his neck meets his shoulder, where it’s sensitive, and Patrick comes, hot and thick all over Pete’s belly. 

Pete can’t stand it, can’t handle how gorgeous Patrick looks when he’s breathing hard and coming down from his orgasm high, and Pete comes too, right on Patrick’s stomach and thighs. 

Pete can’t help but think that rubbing off together like this is both familiar and unfamiliar as he pulls back to breathe, but this time is so different to the last that it makes him smile.

He kisses Patrick once more before he moves away entirely. They’re both a mess - an amazing jizz covered mess that Pete will never forget - and Pete sighs, unable to remember when he was last this happy. 

*

Pete stretches himself along Patrick’s body, head resting on one folded arm, and the other hand flat on Patrick’s chest. Pete looks very comfortable in his post-orgasm nakedness, but Patrick can feel some shyness creeping in, filling him with the urge to cover himself up. Pete moves his fingertip in idle circles on Patrick’s chest and Patrick decided to use the touch as an anchor to keep himself there for even a few more minutes. “So, that was kinda like how we said our first time together was. Remember when I lied in that session?” Pete says.

Patrick thinks back to the day in Gabe’s office. “You said we took it slow-”

“And we were careful with each other? I hope I was careful with you, Patrick.”

“You were,” Patrick smiles, hoping that what he feels is coming across right. “Wasn’t our first time together, though.”

“You want to count that time on the couch as our first time?” Pete asks. Patrick has no problem counting that night as a first _anything_ because not only was it hot as hell but it was the final push that set off that line of dominos leading them right here. He’ll never regret it even for a second, and even if tonight was much more beautiful.

“It’s not as nice a story, right?”

“Not really. But it was still amazing. Haven’t come in my pants in years, so that was pretty special,” Pete laughs.

“Me either. I thought you’d be pulling all your moves on me?” Patrick asks with a quizzical eyebrow, and Pete smiles shyly into the pillow.

“I don’t have moves.”

This time Patrick laughs. “Pete. Firstly, you told me a few of them when we were discussing stuff for the research study. And secondly, I share a wall with you. I’ve heard you bring people back.”

Pete’s props himself up on an elbow to look down at Patrick, his eyes twinkling. “Dirty pervert Patrick. Listening to his friend fuck next door.”

Patrick does blush, but he’s sure it’s a faint one. “It’s hard not to hear you sometimes. These walls are not so sound proof, you know that. I gave you as much privacy as I could. I’ve headphones. Look!” He points to the set of headphones beside his bed.

“I believe you. I’m just teasing anyway.” Patrick’s heart twists over how fond Pete’s tone is, but that changes with the dangerous edge in Pete’s voice when he says, “But I can’t help but wonder what you _are_ into. You hinted that you’re adventurous, or at least not un-adventurous.”

Patrick shrugs, though he’s excited at the thought. “Guess we’ll have to find out.”

“Guess you’ll have to find out about my cheesy date moves too, then. I’ll show you one of my tricks tomorrow.” He leans in and kisses Patrick sweetly and then stage-whispers, “I have zero gag reflex.”

Patrick grins, and though he’s sure he’s too excited, too happy to go to sleep, it’s late and he’s actually pretty exhausted from everything today. Pete cuddles in next to him, octopused around his waist and his face tucked into Patrick’s neck, and he drifts off content and warm and full of joy.

*

Pete decides he absolutely pull a move to Patrick the next morning, it’d be just plain wrong not to. Right when Patrick’s waking up, stirring and smiling sleepily at Pete, Pete slides under the blankets and make sure Patrick wakes up in the nicest way possible. It’s a long, deep blowjob, just to prove that he really does have an awesome lack of gag reflex and Patrick comes with his fingers tangled in Pete’s hair.

Then Patrick returns the favour and Pete knows he will never, ever get over Patrick Stump’s mouth.

Pete’s day at work is spent daydreaming about Patrick and he can’t keep the smile off his face.

Mikey catches him that evening, cornering him in the kitchen before Patrick gets home from work.

“How the hell did you guys go from almost killing each other to being so sickeningly loved up so quickly?”

Pete grins, but he just shrugs. “I don’t know, Mikes. We talked it out. He apologied for what he said, I forgave him. We communicated. Weirdly we acted like we’ve been pretending to all this time.”

Mikey laughs. “So that stupid research thing actually helped you guys in the end?”

“Actually, yes.”

“It helped me and Frankie too. We, uh, we’re moving in together. So I’ll be moving out.”

“You are?” Pete beams. He’ll miss Mikey like crazy, but he couldn’t be happier for his friend. “When?”

“It’ll be a while. We gotta get some money together, sort out somewhere to move to, but yeah. We talked it all out. Talking about the future recently has made us realise that that’s the next logical step.”

“Dude, I’m so fucking happy for you.” He pulls Mikey in for a tight hug, releasing him only when Mikey makes comedy choking noises.

“I’m happy for you too, man. I knew you and Patrick would be okay. Or I damn well hoped you would. You belong together.”

“How’d we wind up being grown ups?” Pete says and Mikey laughs.

“We’re not grown ups yet. If you can tear yourself away from Patrick’s lips you owe me a game of Mario Kart, by the way.”

“You’re on, Mikes.”

Pete and Patrick spend the week in each other’s beds, barely spending any time apart. Pete keeps expecting the novelty to wear off - not that he feels like he’ll get bored of Patrick, but he’s sure that Patrick will get bored of Pete following him around like a puppy.

On Thursday, the afternoon of their final session with Gabe and Victoria, Patrick has no classes so he’s in the apartment. Pete knows this, so he accidentally-on-purpose makes sure he works from home for the afternoon. 

This, of course, lead to some heavy duty making out on Pete’s bed.

“Don’t you have a column to write?” Patrick asks breathily, sounding not in the least bit interested in what Pete might be doing other than this.

“Who gives a fuck about sports?” Pete says. Patrick laughs and Pete catches him in another kiss.

Kissing leads to touching, which leads to undressing. All week they’re session have ended in handjobs and blowjobs and rubbing off on each other. 

Today is different. Today they fuck for the first time. And while Pete’s done this before, he’s never felt so connected to someone, so exposed and vulnerable with someone - and happy to feel that way - as he does when Patrick opens him up so careful and slides inside him.

It’s hot and sweaty and intense, and it’s clear from the start that neither of them will last long. Patrick kisses Pete’s mouth, his jaw, his neck the whole way through. It’s not quite as careful as Pete’s description of their first fuck - there’s too much hot desperation for that. Patrick slides inside him, breathing heavily and groaning when he bottoms out, and Pete feels like he might combust. Pete lets himself get lost in the overwhelming feeling of adrenaline and lust in his veins, the feeling of Patrick’s hot skin all over his. He breathes hard, groaning and shaking, and Patrick’s trembling above him, so hot and so beautiful. The cling to each other as Patrick thrusts his hips forward, and they come mere moments apart, panting and holding each other.

“Dude,” is all Pete can say, exhausted and orgasm-happy. “That was insane. I can’t believe we took so long to get here.”

“I know, but maybe we had to, you now? Maybe we needed a back story. Maybe we needed to go through all that.”

“Like we earned it? I’m not sure I deserve you, Stump.”

“Shut up,” Patrick mumbles, but he smiles sweetly and plants a kiss on Pete’s cheek. “I can’t believe we have to put clothes on soon and go talk about our feelings.” 

Pete giggles. “Yeah, we totally do. I sort of wish we could tell them the truth, you know? Like that would be some relationship to analyse, right?”

“We can’t. We’d be telling them we wasted weeks of their time and money. We -- we can’t.” 

Patrick looks a little on the panicked side, and Pete’s so grateful he can put his arm around him and pull him close to sooth him. “Don’t sweat it, Patrick. I won’t say anything. I can pretend just a little longer. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardise this.” He gestures down the length of their collective naked bodies. “And I think that includes pissing you off and causing an argument over what got us together in the first place.”

Patrick relaxes again, and after a moment of comfortable silence he says, “Do you think we’d have figured it out and gotten together without having to go through all of this? The survey? The fight?”

Pete doesn’t know. It’s taken them this long to get here, over so many obstacles, and down through so many years of friendship. “I don’t know, Patrick. But I like to think we’d have been smart enough to figure it out one day, and not dumb enough to waste too much more time.”

They’ve wasted enough.

 

Epilogue

 

“You seem in a much better place,” Victoria says, and she looks thrilled to say it.

Pete glances over at Patrick, their eyes locking, and they can’t help but smile at each other. “Yeah, we really are,” Pete says, barely able to tear his eyes away from Patrick’s sparkling blue ones.

“We made up,” Patrick says, and Pete gets a wave of butterflies for Patrick as he says it. Patrick’s hand has been in Pete’s since the entered the office, and this time it’s not in an awkward, clammy way. Pete feels like he can’t bear to stop touching Patrick, and even when they’re just holding hands like now, Pete’s stroking his thumb back and forth over Patrick’s hand, enjoying every second of it.

 

He’s still scared that things might get messed up, and he knows that Patrick is too, but it’s not an issue; it’s something that they can use as fuel to ensure they’re careful with each other. They know how bad it is to be apart from each other, to not be speaking to each other and it’s something that neither of them ever want again.

Their last session slips by in a haze of giggles and shared dreamy looks, a private joke that they can never share with Gabe or Victoria. 

“One final question,” Gabe says. “What have you learned about each other?”

Pete wants to laugh because they learned they’re in love with each other, they learned that they mean more to each other than a simple friendship, they’ve learned _everything_ important, as far as Pete’s concerned.

“I learned that if you don’t look at what’s right under your nose you can miss it. Those little things that you see every day are so important,” Pete says, looking at Patrick rather than Gabe.

“I think I learned not to take things from granted,” Patrick says. “You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s possibly moving to New York.” Pete squeezes his hand as Patrick continues. “And I also learned not to jump to conclusions.” Of course he’s referring to his idea that their relationship could crash and burn before it even gets off the ground, or end so badly that they never speak again. These are two things that neither of them can ever know without actually taking a leap of faith in each other and embarking on this adventure together.

Pete shares a look with him, a look of understanding. This is just the beginning of something that could be amazing and life changing, and if they are careful with each other, it could work out to be something incredibly special. They both seem to get that, which is half the battle. Pete squeezes Patrick’s fingers again and tries not to let his heart swell up so much that it bursts through his ribcage.

Gabe stands and offers his hand to Pete who shakes it firmly. “We’d just like to thank you for your time. Your input into our study has been invaluable.”

“It’s been fascinating to see you both and the intricacies of your relationship,” Victoria says. “Really. It’s been a rollercoaster.” She looks them both in the eye as she says that, and Pete wonders if maybe she’s not letting on that she knows more. He wonders if she maybe figured it out - she’s smart and quick witted, so it’s very possible. Though maybe that’s an even more interesting study; a functioning romantic relationship that came from nothing, came from a lie. Pete obviously can’t ask if that’s the case, but he’s happy to ponder it.

“No, thank you,” Pete says. “We’ve had a blast.”

“Yeah, it’s brought us closer together,” Patrick says, and Pete giggles because it’s so true.

“We have a lot of analysis to do,” Gabe says. “But the results will be published in a couple months. We’ll forward you both on a copy.”

“Great!” Pete says. He’s half-curious if he’ll be able to recognise any of himself in the results.

“So, payment will also be forwarded in the coming week,” Victoria says. “Do you have any plans for your earnings?”

Patrick plays it cool and just nods. Pete grins. “Yep. I have mine pretty much spent already.”

“On what?” Patrick and Victoria say at the same time.

“I won’t say. But it’s awesome.”

Pete sighs with relief when they’re clear of the building. Then he turns to Patrick, grabs a handful of his shirt and kisses him hard, just because he can. They’ve made it, in all they ways that count.

When they’re back at the apartment, Patrick brings up the subject of Pete’s plan for his earnings again. “So, do you really have it spent already? Are you going to vacation without me?”

“Would I do that to you, Stump?” Pete says, trying to sound cryptic. “Hey I’m kind of cold, can you please grab me a hoody from my room?”

“Sure. But you know, you’re making me curious as hell, Pete.”

“I know.” Pete smirks.

Pete’s making them hot chocolate and he grins as he measures out the cocoa because he can hear Patrick call his name. Pete doesn’t answer, just continues what he’s doing. “What the fuck?” Patrick calls, and Pete thinks now he should join Patrick in his room.

“What the fuck?” Patrick says again. He doesn’t sound annoyed though, more confused.

He’s standing at the foot of Pete’s bed staring at the beautiful white guitar perched up at the headboard with a big red bow tied around its neck.

“I had Mikey set it up for me while we were at our session. Wanted to surprise you. You like it?” Pete asks. He slips his arm around the back of Patrick’s waist and presses in close.

“Like it? Are you kidding me? That’s the one from the store. The one I wanted to buy.”

“I know.”

“Pete, did you really -- I mean, is this actually for me?”

“Of course!” Pete says. Patrick looks between him and the guitar, incredulous. “Look, right at the start you said you might spend your money on this guitar. Now you don’t have to. It’s yours.”

“But what about your plan? You wanted a vacation, right?”

Pete shrugs. “I know, but that can wait. I wouldn’t feel right. You did this survey to begin with so you could treat yourself to this guitar. You deserve it. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t have given in to my pestering.”

Patrick shakes his head like Pete’s an idiot, it’s a gesture that Pete knows off by heart by now. “Pete, I didn’t just give in because you pestered me and I wanted a guitar. I gave in because I enjoy spending time with you and I like helping you out.” Pete grins and Patrick kisses him again, something Pete may never get sick of. “And if anyone should get credit for this whole thing, it’s you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Patrick smiles. “This is all your fault, really. But we can call it even?”

“Deal.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Hands We Hold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8030164) by [Magnusismyrock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnusismyrock/pseuds/Magnusismyrock)




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